


Regular People Still

by Chimerical1975



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Character Study, Christmas, F/M, Resolved Sexual Tension, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:43:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 36,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28995435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chimerical1975/pseuds/Chimerical1975
Summary: The sequel to the story started in Regular People. We're back in 1998 where Mulder and Scully are continuing their sojourn. This leads to issues and discoveries large and small, lots of sex, some laughter, some sadness, and a touch of urgency as they are fast running out of time to be regular people.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 6
Kudos: 29





	Regular People Still

**Author's Note:**

> Time wise, the story takes place in December 1998, after Dreamland and skipping over HTGSC. Nothing after that date appears, as it hasn't happened yet in this world.
> 
> Chimerical1975@gmail.com  
> Comments, questions, discussion, and criticisms always welcome.  
> Originally Published: October 2000  
> The X-Files, its characters and situations are the property of 1013 Productions and Fox Broadcasting.

**December 25, 1998  
Martha's Vineyard **

Usually when Mulder opened his eyes in the morning, the first thing in his line of vision was his lithograph of an old Royal Typewriter, a thing most people gave strange looks at upon seeing it in his apartment the first time. They didn't know that the typewriter in the picture looked much like the one that had sat on the desk in his father's study some thirty years ago. 

When he was eight years old, he'd wanted to be a reporter, mostly because his class had recently visited the local newspaper and he'd found the process fascinating. He'd spent many evenings sitting at father's typewriter, jamming the keys together and messing the ribbon up as he would hunt and peck away through a story. 

That was a time before cut, paste, and spell check. A time when making a mistake meant starting over from the beginning if it was to be perfect, without erasures and cover-ups. He showed his father what he'd written and asked him to help him fix it, help him make it right. Together they sat with heads bowed as William Mulder went over each story with him. He helped him correct his grammar and spelling, showing him how to tell the story honestly and fairly. Mulder still remembered the day his father had handed his paper back to him and told him that he didn't need to change a thing because it was perfect.

Like the typewriter, that time of closeness with his father was long gone now. It was true that his lithograph was his reminder of a time when the frenzied information age hadn't yet dawned; when his life was slower, a little more pure. But mostly, it was his reminder of when he learned that making it right took perseverance, tenacity, and a willingness to start over.

But on this morning, as he pushed unaccustomed deep sleep from his mind, he saw very different view before him. One of trees and blue sky and morning sunlight streaming through the branches, turning the pines a brilliant green, and throwing shadows about. And for just a moment in time, he didn't know where he was. Then, in the blink of an eye, the knowledge was there. 

He was home. Not home in Alexandria, but his childhood home on Martha's Vineyard. He lay curled up on his stomach in his parent's large bed, a place of sanctuary he hadn't slept the night in since he was six years old and frightened by closet monsters.

It was December and outside the warmth of the blankets, the air was cool on his hand. As he shifted slightly under the blanket, he felt the brush of heat from Scully's body radiate lightly against the skin of his back. That was another sensation that he couldn't remember feeling for a very long time, a sweet presence within his personal space. The warmth against the left side of his back was enticing given the chill of the morning. His instinct was to turn towards it, but instead, he kept his gaze fixed on the tranquil scene visible through the French doors as he lazily drank in the winter beauty. Cold weather always made the colors so clear and he noticed that there was a slight breeze outside. The boughs on the trees swayed gently back and forth causing the sun to make dancing patterns of shadow on the redwood deck outside the window.

Mulder unfolded his curled-up legs, flexing his feet and stretching, unkinking the muscles. But as he moved, he felt small toes graze up against his calf. He carefully moved his body again, now slowly nestling back towards the warmth, feeling her skin contact lightly against his body. Suddenly, she moved too, and he felt a brush of hair tickle his back as it feathered by. The sensation caused him to smile and the urge to turn over and take her into his arms was becoming a need.

Good God, he was on the verge of becoming a cuddler. Mulder laughed quietly as he rolled his eyes. That was just about a nine on the scale of ten of male wussiness, maybe one step below admitting you liked a chick flick. But he didn't care because he found that he was quickly adapting to the new feeling that this simple physical intimacy invoked. It was strangely compelling, this calm after the storm. Content. That was the word. He couldn't remember being this content in a long time. And he knew the feeling was a fledgling-- newborn and ill prepared to endure in the harsh world that was often their existence. He feared for the feeling's capacity to survive, let alone thrive.

He yawned deeply as his thoughts rambled about in that marvelous world of half-sleep. Before full consciousness came to put them in order. God--he'd made love to Scully last night. Actually, just a few hours ago. And, unlike everything else in their lives, it had happened with an astonishing lack of fanfare; a simple, natural moment six years in the making and yet only one day in the fulfillment. And somehow, he'd ended up in bed with the last person he'd expected to see yesterday morning.

She'd showed up unexpectedly at his father's house in West Tisbury when at that moment she was supposed to be with her family in California. He'd dropped her off at the airport himself the previous day. He'd gone on to Martha's Vineyard where he was going to spend the holidays getting his father's house ready to sell. But as he worked in the yard, he'd heard his name called and recognized her voice before he'd even turned his head. And there she was, standing at the gate, waiting for him to let her in. How prophetic.

At first, it seemed that she was simply there by default. She'd had nowhere else to go after winter storms caused her holiday plans to fall apart. But no matter the reason, he'd been absurdly pleased that she was there. And although he appeared to be sympathetic to her plight, the reality was that he was just doing a very good job at hiding the fact that he was delighted by her misfortune. And so began a day unlike no other in all their years together. A day that regular people would call mundane or even boring. Fools, he thought, dumb shit fools. They had no clue how lucky they had it or how fortunate they were to be ignorant of what he and Scully knew.

He discovered Scully yesterday. Certainly nothing big, nothing dramatic, she just filled in some of the gaps, little bits and pieces that he didn't know, or that she hadn't let him know, before. She'd insisted on helping him clean up the yard at his father's house and they'd talked, played, flirted, and generally acted like a couple of teenagers whose parents were out of town. But even so, when they'd returned to his childhood home in Chilmark, it might have gone no further. They'd danced this dance before and had always gone their separate ways when it was over.

But then late last night, just before she left for Midnight Mass, she told him something that had rocked him. Perhaps he'd started it by opening his big mouth and saying something incredibly sentimental to her. Jesus, he'd even brought God into it and feeling embarrassed, he'd immediately made for the kitchen to hide out, pretending to rinse the dishes. But within moments, he'd heard her call his name for the second time that day and reluctantly, he came back to the doorway of the kitchen and hovered there, slowly raising his eyes to meet hers. Scully stood at the front door and he'd thought she was simply going to say goodbye. But instead, she told him something that he hadn't even realized he'd needed to hear.

"Mulder, I could have still made it to my family's if I'd wanted to."

Whoa. He wasn't expecting that at all. 

Chosen. He'd been chosen. As those words sank in, he felt a smile cross his face and Scully returned it softly as though she also was a little self-conscious by her own outburst of sentimentality. And then she was gone, leaving him alone to cope with his newfound knowledge and its implications. With a simple sentence, she'd tossed the ball back right back in his court. And now he just had hours to think and wait.

He'd gone upstairs and glanced in Scully's room, realizing that the bed wasn't made. No matter how his plans turned out, he knew she was tired. He found the flannel sheets in the closet and put the bed together, then just stood there as he considered his options. Finally, he turned off the light and headed back down the hallway to his old room where he flopped himself down on the bed in the dark. He folded his hands behind his head and waited. Several hours later he awoke from his light doze when he heard the front door opening and closing and then her footsteps on the stairs. For a moment, he hoped she might bypass her room and come to him, but she didn't. And so instead, he went to her last night. 

Well, actually, he almost didn't. The usual insecurities decided to plague him a bit, along with that deep-rooted fear that he was about to make a colossal ass of himself and then have to live with that humiliation. All in all, it'd taken two trips down the hall to open that damn door. She'd taken him in, just as he'd really known all along that she would. And he'd made love to her right here in his parent's antique sleigh bed. The same bed that he'd been conceived in back when his mother and father had still been in love and wanted to create a living expression of how they felt about each other. In other words, a very long, long time ago.

There would be no such expression for them, he thought and his reaction to that sudden, random perception was a soft melancholy that washed through briefly and then faded away. He nestled in back closer to the warmth behind him. He could now feel her faint breath on his back. He wanted to turn and look at her, but he didn't.

The truth was that in his thirty-seven years the only baby he'd ever held in his arms had been his little sister. His parents had prepared him carefully for her arrival. Hoping, as all parents do, to ward off whatever sibling rivalry they could. They'd tried to make him feel involved and excited by telling him how much his little sister would depend on her big brother to show her around. Perhaps they hadn't realized that he would take that responsibility so much to heart. And when he first looked down at the big baby-gray eyes staring back solemnly up at him, he remembered telling her that he was going to share all the things he knew so far in the world. As he had all the confidence that a four-year-old who'd experienced few failures could muster, it never once occurred to him to wonder if he was up to the task. And that confidence had lasted until he was twelve.

And since then, the thought of having a small, squirming life placed in his arms for safekeeping seemed absurd. In the few times he'd thought of kids at all during the ensuing years, it'd always been with the concern of not being able to keep a child safe from the horrors he knew to be in the world already. And in later years, he wondered how to keep a child safe from the horrors he knew to be coming. After all, they hadn't been able to protect Emily; it had been beyond their power. They'd felt useless and helpless.

He knew that Scully had been especially confused about what she felt and what she thought she was supposed to feel about a child that was genetically hers and yet a stranger. A child she'd not even had the chance to know before that prospect was taken away. He knew that she'd struggled hard to reconcile her conflicted emotions and because he always saw under her façade of control, he knew that struggle had broken Scully's heart in small ways. And for his own reasons, for his own suspicions, it had broken his to watch her. No, there was no question that children were a ridiculous notion. But in another type of life, one they would never have, he thought that he might have been brave enough to try with Scully. They might have done OK together.

He now felt the slim body behind him move again, breaking his flow of thought as it molded to his, and he felt her hand touch his shoulder blade, caressing gently. Oh, that was nice, very nice. Thinking she'd awakened, he finally raised his head and turned over to look at her. But her eyes were still closed and her breathing soft and even. Her touch was being done in her sleep. She was apparently as unused to sharing her sleeping space as he was and she seemed to be testing the limits of her area in the bed. It was very true that having sex and sleeping together were two entirely different things and each took some getting used to. He smiled at the way her face was slightly smushed up against the pillow. It was cute.

He shook his head. Oh Jesus, now he was using words like "cute." On Scully, of all people no less. He thought about waking her but decided that would be selfish. Mulder pulled back the blanket and sat up, feeling the shock of cold air against his naked skin. He got out of the bed and bent to pick up his T-shirt and sweat pants that had been tossed to the floor last night in their rush to get at each other. As he pulled his clothes on against the chill of the December morning, he was already wondering about the next time that he would make love to her. His body was responding to the idea of seeing Scully's body in the light and feeling her touch again.

Last night had been exactly what it should have been, intense, fierce, concentrated. And quick, too damn quick. Not that he'd left Scully behind in the sexual pleasure department. He'd felt her, he'd heard her and even in the dim moonlight, he'd seen her. But next time he wanted long and slow, with lots of talking about what they liked, what they wanted, what they might have fantasized about. Of course, maybe he was just being egotistical and arrogant to think she might have fantasized about him. But surely, she had--God knows, he had about her. From her ardent response last night, he felt sure that there was just no way he was alone in that.

Mulder bent down over Scully, tucking the blanket back about her as he placed a kiss on the round of her shoulder, and then another into the curve of her neck. He sniffed deeply as he did so and was rewarded with the scent of them together. Oh God, this was a good feeling. Better than anything he had a memory of in recent years. Suddenly feeling overwhelmed, Mulder left the bedroom silently, avoiding the squeaky floorboard in the hallway, and headed back to his old bedroom. He entered his small bathroom and started the shower, letting it run a moment as he knew it took a while for the water heater of the old house to actually send any hot water upstairs. He went into the hallway and turned on the gas heater, another thing that barely worked.

Returning to the bathroom, he stripped off his clothes again and took a long shower, emerging clean and renewed. He hadn't shaved in a couple of days so he did so now. He razored the beard away and then rinsed his face with the warm water. As he touched his face, his fingertips grazed over his lips and that touch brought back the memory of hers. His fingers lingered and Mulder closed his eyes a moment before as the feeling washed through him. How long had it been since he'd allowed himself to just feel normal? Emotion closed his throat up and he sat down on the edge of the tub to regain his composure. He shook his head as a self-mocking laugh escaped him. Oh man, he was in love. Not that the in-love part was any kind of a self-revelation, but he was feeling pretty damn selfish about it. He wanted to hang on to this feeling of contentment, it was addicting, and the first he'd let himself have in so long.

It was so ironic that people thought his single-mindedness came naturally when nothing could be farther from the truth. People tended to think of Scully as the one with control and it was true that her will was formidable. But they liked to joke that his was an obsession when the reality was that it was a conscious choice he made every day. Every single day. And every day, he felt a little more drained by that choice and its responsibility. Every day, it wore him down, the constant emotional battle over which lie to believe or which path to follow. Every day, many of the choices he made were quite literally a matter of life and death. For himself, for Scully, for the people they cared about and the fortunate oblivious who had no clue what danger they were in.

And every day, the sky fell a little faster despite his and Scully's best efforts to hold it up.

He finished dressing and headed downstairs. It wasn't until he was actually in the kitchen and looking out over the field behind the house that he remembered it was Christmas morning. He'd lost his sentimentality about holiday many years ago, but even so, this day usually brought an empty feeling, a sensation of being left out, left behind somehow. He knew it wasn't at all unusual to feel that way during this time of year. Many felt disconnected or disenfranchised so in one sense, he was no different than other people. But the wonder of it was that he didn't feel that way today. And it wasn't because he'd made love to Scully last night, as extraordinary as that had been. No, the reason for the feeling was much less complex. It was because she'd spent the day helping him clean the yard at his father's house. She'd chosen to be with him. She'd needed to be with him and for just once in her life she'd let him know that.

This was a feeling that he liked and it was a feeling he could get used to having on a daily basis. But to do so, he'd have to turn his back on everything else that had driven him all the years. He'd willingly put up with the humiliation and bullshit over the years because he'd believed that they were helping people who'd had no one else to turn to, no one else to believe them. And after the events of last summer, it was even more apparent just how vital this work was.

But for a long time now, it had been hard to find a reason to get up in the morning, get dressed and head off to the Bureau to see his life's work handed to someone else to fuck up. Where he was publicly and deliberately humiliated and degraded daily. It'd had been damn hard to rise above the depression caused by the loss of his work, the thing that had defined what he was for so long. He'd spent the last months trying to get his sense of purpose back and he hadn't achieved it. He and Scully both kept going and they managed to keep defying A.D. Kersh where they could, slipping in under his radar as Scully put it. But he wondered if it was only a matter of time until they were separated again and Kersh found a way to drive his ass out of the bureau. It was hard, just damn hard to find a hope to hang on to.

But this...this was so easy.

And fun. This was a word he didn't often get to use in anything relating to his own life. Doing backbreaking yard work had seemed like play. Going grocery shopping with her had been entertaining. Cooking dinner together had been enjoyable. Hell, tossing her on that pile of leaves had been downright carefree. And he didn't have a word to describe the lovemaking. But it was all so easy. And so tempting.

He looked out the window at the bright sun and thought about the woman upstairs who slept so peacefully by his side last night. Scully had asked him just a short while ago if he ever wanted to slow down and live a normal life. He'd made a flippant reply but the question hadn't left him for a moment and the fact that Scully had even asked it of him had stayed with him too. Maybe it was time to turn away from it all. Admit that one man and one woman couldn't fight the future. Maybe they could just learn to live in the present. Other people got to do that, why shouldn't they?

But he already knew the answer, even as the temptation beckoned. Because they had work to do. Work that only they could do. It wasn't arrogance that made him believe that, it was simple truth. Right now, except for Scully, all that he'd cared about was gone. He was off the X-Files with what seemed little hope of ever getting back. Sleeping with Scully didn't change that and of course, their continuing to sleep together wouldn't change that either. And he had every intention of continuing to sleep with Scully, but he was not so sure that they could get be returned to the X-Files.

And he wondered what Scully was feeling about all this. He wondered if she was feeling as enchanted as he. He needed to talk to her and he realized the beauty of that concept, found it comforting. But then, as if on cue, he heard the shower go on upstairs and he suddenly felt just slightly panicked. Shit. She was up. In a few minutes, she would be down here, looking him in the eye and things were going to start getting real again. What was she going to say to him? What would he say to her? How should he act? What...

God, you moron, it's Scully. Just stop it.

As the sound of running water continued, his mind drifted elsewhere, to a Scully who was naked in the shower at this very moment. He hadn't yet seen her body in the soft light of day. Desire washed through him at the thought of her wet and washing her hair and running her hands over her soapy, slick body with those perfect breasts that he'd finally gotten to touch and taste and...

Stop this. Stop this right now.

A flushed Mulder decided that busying himself with making coffee would help him keep himself in control. As the coffee brewed, he got out a few breakfast things and generally putzed until he decided that maybe he should take the coffee up to her. Maybe she was waiting for him to approach her. Mulder was just pouring the coffee into mugs when he heard the telltale squeak of floorboard at the top of the stairs. Taking the mugs in his hand, he moved to the doorway in time to see Scully's feet appear on the stairwell and then descend as the rest of her came into view. She was looking over at the living room as she came down, not seeing him in the kitchen doorway. As he watched her a moment, he thought it must feel very strange for her, this holiday with no family, no Christmas, nothing that was familiar to her. Except him.

"Good Morning," he called out softly so as not to startle her.

But she turned at the sound of his voice and the smile that graced her face made his heart quicken. God, she was so beautiful. She paused at the foot of the stairs. "Morning, Mulder."

"I was just coming to wake you up. The place comes with room service you know."

Scully came to him and took one of the coffee mugs from his hand, her fingers grazing his as she did so and he almost dropped the other mug. "Thank you."

He searched her face for any sign of regret or awkwardness and found none. Then he realized he couldn't just continue to stand and stare at her like an idiot so he gestured to her to sit down as he retreated to the kitchen. Down boy, he thought, it's just breakfast. Scooping up the muffins and the orange juice, he returned to the living room where Scully sat on the couch, sipping her coffee. She watched him as he set them on the coffee table before taking his place next to her, the warmth of her body and her sweet, clean smell making him weak. "I forgot something," he told her.

Scully turned from the meal in front of them to meet his eyes. "What?" she asked.

"This." Mulder slowly leaned towards her, kissing her lightly, before drawing back as the quicksilver tightening in the pit of his stomach shot through him. The same as he'd felt last night. He kissed her again, deeper, feeling her respond, feeling her move to caress his lips with her own. God, he could just kiss Scully forever. When he finally drew away, he saw that she was as moved by him as he was by her. Exactly the way it should be, he thought. What would it be like to have this kind of freedom all the time? That thought sobered him again, and he turned away, picked up his coffee mug, and stared down at it. Scully seemed to sense his mood change, and he felt her arm slide across his back as her other hand came to rest on his forearm, stroking back and forth.

"What?" she asked, her tone was low and coaxing.

"Scully, you asked me a question a little while ago that I never really answered."

"Which question, Mulder?"

"You asked me whether I ever wanted to settle down, and live something approaching a normal life. Well, the answer is yes." He turned his eyes to hers, nodding slowly. "Yes, Scully, every once in a while, I think exactly that. Especially if that normal life could be like this. Like yesterday. Like last night." He took a deep breath, not sure how to say the rest without sounding pessimistic, but truth was, he felt pessimistic. "But I don't know that it's something that I'll ever be able have because so much else in my life conspires to prevent it. But I do think about it, Scully. More and more lately." He glanced over at her and she nodded. Mulder set his mug back on the table. "But I have a question for you too." He stood and retreated to one of the windows, putting some distance between them as he looked out on the lawn covered in morning dew, wondering if he even wanted to hear the answer to his next question. He turned back to her.

"Scully--do you believe that my sister was abducted by aliens?"

He saw a startled look cross her face. Clearly, this wasn't a question she expected on this morning. The only other time he'd asked the question of her, she'd been unwilling to reply, unwilling to hurt him by saying it aloud. He hadn't pressed her and they'd let it go. But he needed to hear the answer today. Where they went from here depended upon it. He waited in silence and somewhat to his surprise, Scully never looked away from him. Not once.

"Mulder..." she paused a moment. "Yes, Mulder. I believe it's possible. I've believed it for a long time. I just never told you."

And that wasn't the answer that he'd been so sure he would hear. He crossed back over to her and knelt before her, searching her face. "Really, Scully?" She nodded as a sad, hesitant smile crossed her face and he could see that she knew what they were giving up. But she'd given him the truth he'd asked for. "Thank you," he pulled her into his arms. "Thank you for telling me." He drew back and touched her face. "That's the best Christmas present I've ever had," he said lightly to cover his emotion. "But I didn't get you anything."

She shook her head and a bittersweet look crossed her face as she touched him. "Yes, you did, Mulder. For six years, you and I have been on a journey whose nature doesn't allow us the opportunity to be regular people. We're different, you and I. Different both by circumstance and by choice. But we're still different, we're still outsiders to many of the things the rest of the world gets to take for granted. But yesterday, last night and today, we did all the regular people things that regular people get to do. I wanted that gift for a long time." She took his face in her hands. "I know that we'll get the X-files back soon because we have a job to finish. And I know that by necessity, things will return to how they were before. But I'll have these days forever. You gave me that and it's the best gift I could ask for...even if I know I have to give it back soon." Scully wrapped her arms around his neck as she held him close again. "And I did get to go home to my family for Christmas, Mulder."

"Scully..." He started to say more but his throat felt painful as he realized how well this woman understood him. "Yes," he agreed simply. They would return from this sojourn with their original determination intact. They would somehow get back what was theirs and continue their journey together. There was a certain relief that they'd made their decision. While they would most assuredly continue in this new phase of their closeness, they'd have to forfeit the open freedom they found here on this island and in this cottage. And that normal life she'd talked about on the road to Nevada would not be theirs for the keeping.

But it would be theirs for the next few days.

He rose back to his feet and she followed him as he moved back up the stairs. He felt slightly awkward, nervous even. He was going to take Scully to bed and make love to her. No, it wasn't their first time, but last night seemed dreamlike somehow, spontaneous and unstructured. But this was different, this was very deliberate. As he looked down at her, she met his eyes briefly then glanced away, causing him to smile. Oh good, she was self-conscious too, it wasn't just him. Mulder's usual defense mechanism was humor and he became amused at the thought that at their age, this would make them feel like clumsy adolescents. But since that was actually pretty close to how he felt, he might as well take advantage of that.

At the top of the stairs, she reached out to open the door to her room, but he caught her hand. She looked up at him again and saw that he now wore that playful, wicked smile from yesterday when he'd tossed her in the leaf pile. "What, Mulder?" She asked with cautious curiosity, knowing him well. As she stepped toward him, she hit the creaky floorboard.

He raised one finger to his lips as he bent low to her ear. "Shhh, you'll wake my Mom," he whispered. "Come on, my room's this way," he said as he nodded his head in the direction of his room. He tugged on her hand as he walked backwards down the hallway towards his old room, leading her to his domain.

Scully smiled, remembering their conversation about his bed from yesterday. God, was that only yesterday? "OK," she whispered back as he led her down the hallway. "But I should warn you that my dad will kick your butt if I'm not home by midnight."

He pushed open the door to his room with his foot and drew her inside as he grinned at her. "Midnight of what year?"

They stood in the center of his room and looked at each other. "So, you bring a lot of girls from school up here, Mulder?" she asked.

"Only the ones with a high tolerance for listening to theories of government conspiracy."

"Oh, so I'm the first then." He smiled at that. "Well, I'd listen to anything to get out of Home Economics, but I was kinda hoping for not too much talk here."

"I can do less talk." He bent down to kiss her, pulling her up against him. The height difference that had never been a problem before, now became a source of further amusement. Laughing slightly, he drew away. "OK--I need to be shorter," he told her. "Or, you need to be taller."

Scully gave him that amused look that he'd seen more of in the last twenty-four hours than in the last year. "Well, if I'd brought some spiky high heels with me, Mulder, I'd be happy to put them on. But since I didn't, I'm afraid you'll have to settle for getting less vertical."

"Damn, I like the high heel thing, but your solution works too."

"I thought you'd think so."

He sat on the edge of the bed and she came to stand before him. He reached out and wrapped his arms around her waist, laying his head against her belly. He felt her cradle her against him and he closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation. After a moment, he felt her kiss the top of his head as her voice reached him.

"I want to know the story, Mulder."

He shook his head in confusion as he looked up at her, not understanding her question.

She stroked the back of her fingers down his face. "Yesterday, you told me that you didn't have as many stories as you'd hoped about this bed. And I asked you if there was at least one."

"Oh God, are we back to that conversation?"

"Uh, huh."

"Same deal goes, Scully. You gotta tell me about yours first."

"OK. Deal."

Her quick agreement surprised him. God, was Scully really going to tell him about how she lost her virginity? He gave a small laugh as she stepped back out his arms just a bit and he looked up now to meet her eyes, seeing the wicked gleam there. She'd called his bluff and he'd walked right into it, he thought with a silent laugh.

"It was my senior year of high school, Mulder. I'd waited a long time. Longer than most of the girls in my class if their stories were to be believed." As she talked, Scully lifted her left foot and placed it on the top of Mulder's thigh. She leaned over and slowly began to slide the white sock off, rolling it slowly down her ankle and then her foot. Mulder's eyes followed her movements as she bared her toes, complete with painted nails, flexed them slowly over the muscle of his thigh and lowered her foot back to the floor.

Mulder swallowed hard.

"I was feeling like I was missing out on something, that somehow everybody but me was in on this big wonderful secret." Scully placed her other foot on his thigh and this time, Mulder got the idea. He reached over and rolled the sock off himself as she continued talking while he worked. "I'd been going out with a boy named Marcus. He was a nice combination of cute and smart, a science geek like myself and we'd been lab partners in a couple of classes."

As she talked, Mulder ran his hand over fine bones of her foot, and skimming his fingers over the toes. With his index finger, he traced the arch of her foot and she jumped a little. Ah, Scully was ticklish. He made a mental note and stored it away for future use.

"I guess I had a habit of falling for partners even back then," she said with soft irony as she slid her foot gently from his grasp. She stood before him again, and he raised his eyes to meet hers. "Anyway, we'd planned on doing it after the prom. But that didn't work because of a long story I won't go into now." She raised her hand and unbuttoned the cuff on her white cotton shirt, slowly sliding the two buttons back through the holes as Mulder watched closely as though he'd never seen such a wondrous thing.

"So the next time the opportunity arose was about a week later." She now extended her other arm to Mulder, who took her wrist in his hand as his long fingers deftly made short work of the tiny button. "We decided to get out of town, so Marcus borrowed his Dad's Lincoln Continental and we headed up to the mountains."

Mulder slowly bent and pressed his lips to the inside of her wrist, kissing his way slowly into her palm. He heard her quick breath intake as he did so, and he felt her other hand thread softly though his hair. He was amazed at the sensation that coursed through him at that touch and it sent a quiver of feeling through his body. "You would have been proud of me; we told our parents that we were going to go watch an unusual meteor shower for astronomy class."

Mulder grinned as he looked up at her again.

"So, we're up in the mountains parked on a back road by the lake, and we're in the back seat of the Lincoln Continental, making out like teenagers in heat do." She paused, remembering something. "Marcus wasn't a terribly artful kisser, he just kind of clamped his lips on to you and ground away." As she spoke, Scully slowly pulled the tucked-in shirt from her pants. "But anyway, I'm feeling this hard thing bumping into my hip and I know it's not his belt buckle. So I'm figuring, OK-- now's the time and I'm gonna do it in the back of a Continental and just how cliche is that?"

When done with pulling out her shirt, she stepped close into his body between his spread legs, her legs rubbing against the insides of his thighs. She took his hands, which had been gripping his knees, and placed them on the bottom buttons of her shirt, urging him to start on them while she started on the top ones. Mulder curbed his instinct to simply rip the shirt off and send the buttons flying. This was Scully's game and he was enjoying it, which was remarkable considering he was hearing about the first bastard lucky enough to touch the woman he loved.

"So I give Marcus the go-ahead and in the dark I can hear him fumbling desperately in his wallet for that condom he probably acquired somewhere during his sophomore year." Scully had opened most of the buttons on the top part of her shirt. "And he keeps saying, 'thank you' over and over, although I was never quite sure if he was talking to me or God."

Mulder laughed at that, burying his face briefly against Scully's belly again before continuing his task of opening the shirt. Their hands met in the middle and they undid the final button together. She took his hands and held them as she bent down to kiss him. He parted his lips and let her have full access as she took his mouth, her tongue soft against his lips. He caressed her lips his own, teasing and nipping gently. She drew back slowly and opened her closed eyes. "Now, here's a man who knows how to kiss," she whispered. Mulder reached to kiss her again, but she straightened back up. Taking the shirt in her hands, she slowly dropped it from her shoulders to the floor.

Mulder was going insane and she wasn't even halfway undressed. He felt his cock hardening and pushing at his sweatpants. He reached out for her again and this time, he succeeded in pulling her back against him. He applied his kiss to her warm belly and felt her muscles twitch under him. He unbuttoned the snap on her jeans and lowered the zipper, laying wet, soft marks on her navel and below. Splaying his hand over her lower back, he pressed her to him and he felt her hands slide into his hair and grasp on.

"So anyway..." she continued, her voice sounding just a bit strained now as his hands moved over her. "So anyway, I'm lying on the back seat trying to find a way to gracefully wiggle out of too-tight jeans while Marcus is snapping on the old rubber." And he laughed, as she intended him to, at her reference to their old argument.

Scully stepped back and caught the waistband of her jeans with her thumbs. She lowered them slowly, moving her hips in a delicious to watch side-to-side motion, revealing her lovely thighs that Mulder remembered feeling closed around him like an embrace last night, holding him within. The memory of that flooded back and left him sweaty, as though the sight in front of him wasn't enough to make him pass out with want.

Scully placed a hand on his shoulder, which he reached across his chest to hold, as she stepped delicately out of the jeans, kicking them aside. Mulder appreciatively took in the sight of her slender hips that curved beautifully into to a small waist. He reached out and wrapped his hand around the curve of her waist, then leaned in to kiss the warm skin of her belly. His long fingers kneaded the soft flesh as his own body was now aching with hard need, his balls and cock feeling heavy.

Scully couldn't help but make a warm pleasured sound at his touch and she smoothed her hand through his hair before continuing her story. "So finally, we'd taken off the right things and put on the right things and with foreplay that consisted of Marcus kicking his shoes off, he rolls on top, then shoved up into me hard and got right to it."

Mulder looked up at her, and in his beautiful eyes she saw a flash of that protective fierceness that he always carried for her. His lips parted slightly with an unspoken question and she shook her head to reassure him. "It didn't hurt, Mulder. Not really. I had kind of expected it to, but it didn't." She stepped forward and crawled on to his lap, sitting astride him on the bed as he took her in his arms.

Mulder nodded as he looked at her and she felt his hands on her back, moving in soothing circles as he nudged her forward to kiss her again tenderly. God, this was just too much, she thought. Sensory overload kicked in as the warm skin of his chest pressed into her. She felt Mulder's growing erection straining against her damp panties as she moved just ever so slowly against him and she felt his breathing deepen. She finally drew away from the kiss, caressing his face.

But as he watched, she looked down just slightly, as though the next part was a little hard to say, her deeply ingrained self-constraint always there. But he dipped his head down too, maintaining eye contact with her, not letting her hide from him as she continued.

“To be honest, I didn't feel much at all, and I wondered what the hell all the fuss was about. Needless to say, I didn't have an orgasm and it wasn't until much, much later that I began to figure it out what the big deal was."

He tilted his head slightly as he looked at her, but he didn't make the glib comment that he could have so easily. Instead his gaze became tender as he put his hand to her face, cupping her cheek as he caressed her lips with his thumb. "I wish it had been better for you, Scully," he said finally said quietly.

She smiled slowly at his words, then hugged him close. This was exactly why she loved this man and for a moment, she stayed motionless, just feeling his hardness of his body and the softness of his heart. "It wasn't unpleasant, Mulder, but even if it had been, it wouldn't have been too bad because it was over pretty damn quickly. Poor Marcus was pretty embarrassed about that and of course, I kept lying through my teeth like a good girlfriend and telling him it'd been wonderful."

She laughed lightly, as did he. And they nuzzled slowly together, playfully touching lips to noses, eyebrows, and cheekbones. Scully sat back just a little to undo the single front clasp of her bra and Mulder slid it from her shoulders where it joined the heap on the floor. He looked at her breasts in the warm sunlight for the first time and she could see the desire overwhelm him. His hand came up to mold itself over the rounded softness as he bent his head to kiss the other. When his lips covered her nipple to suckle and tease, she felt the warmth flood through her, causing her to squirm against his shielded cock.

"You know Scully," he said lifting his warm mouth for just a moment, "I gotta say, out of all the stories I could have thought of, you doing it in the back seat of a Cadillac--"

"--A Continental."

"...A Continental, was just not on the list."

She caressed him, sliding her hands along his shoulders and playing with the hair on the nape of his neck, as he tasted her nipple, hardening it to a peak with his tongue. God, he was making her feel good, both hot and relaxed. It was a moment before she could answer him. "It wasn't on my list either, Mulder," she said wryly. "It didn't exactly happen like I'd always imagined."

"What had you always imagined?" he asked as he placed wet, laving kisses over her breasts that felt comforting and exciting at the same time. She looked at his bowed head and trailed her fingers through his thick hair.

"Exactly what happened with you last night," she answered softly.

Mulder went still and then looked up at her. He blinked slowly, touched by her words as he drew a long breath. "God, Scully--" he broke off, his voice tightly emotional.

But Scully saved him. She ran her fingers over his lips, stopping any other words, as she smiled. "I want to make love to you, Mulder," she whispered. "I want to make you feel so good." And she kissed him completely, sealing her request as she delved deeply into his mouth, feeling his grip on her tighten as he melted into the kiss. It was a long time before he came up for air.

"But I haven't told you my story," he teased, breaking the kiss. His hand crept back up to cover her breast, kneading firmly again as the woman sitting on his lap made some wicked little movements against him with her soft, sweet ass.

"Later, let me make love to you first," she insisted.

"Oh, OK..." He said with mock resignation as he leaned back just enough to strip his T-shirt off quickly over his head, tossing it on the floor and causing her to laugh at the same time. Scully raised herself off his lap so that he could wiggle out of his sweatpants, which he kicked off over his bare feet, before he settled back up against the pillows on the bed. He reached up to gather her back into his arms, but she caught his hands. She gently pushed them back against the bed on either side of his head, holding them in place as she kissed his eyes closed and worked her way slowly across his face and then down his neck.

She rubbed over his nipples with her thumbs, teasing them easily to hard peaks before she kissed and licked each of them in their turn. She lightly scraped her nails through his chest hair, tracing a pattern lightly, tickling and causing his belly to twitch. He started to caress her but she caught his hands again and gently pushed them back by his side. "Relax and enjoy this, Mulder," she requested lightly. He gave up and crossed his arms behind his head as she wanted and let her have dominion over his body.

And Scully took advantage of him while he watched. She kissed and trailed her tongue down the outside of his arm, working a pathway down his side and back over his rib cage. She then latched on to his nipple again before turning to his cock that waited at attention for her. She ran her tongue down its length, tip to base. She wetly traced the ridges of vein and flesh, paying particular attention to the underside, flicking her tongue, teasing, and feeling the heat of him.

"Oh God, Scully. There, right there." As he requested, Scully went to work on a spot right below the crown, laying the flat of her tongue against it. She rubbed in a circular motion, feeling him squirm. She rolled the tender skin covering his balls, reaching under them and massaging the perineum area in a deep, firm touch that sent bliss waves and a low cry from him rewarded her efforts. His legs and hips moved from the sensation as the feeling went on and on from her touch, building slowly and reaching a peak. To keep him from going too fast, she moved her hand to grasp the base of his cock, squeezing in firmly and then gently tugging on his ball sack, bringing him back just a little. She trailed her tongue along the length of his penis, giving it a little bath, cleaning away the small bit of juice that formed at the tip. She then took him back in her mouth as she began to build the sweet pressure back up, then released him again.

She heard Mulder's hushed voice. "Please, Scully." She turned her eyes to look at him. He lay sweat burnished and breathing hard through parted lips as he gazed at her through narrowed eyes. "Please. I need to come...Help me."

Mulder's unconstrained want and ability to ask for what he needed was the most erotic thing she could ever remember hearing or seeing. His erection was strong and weighty under her hands again, she could see the hard need in him, dying to get out. Scully covered the head of his cock with her tongue, then slipped it into her mouth, massaging with quick sharp movements. She worked his flesh deeply with her mouth as she began to stroke him with her lips and tongue, pressuring hard on the upsweep, repeating the movements over and over. "Oh, God, that's good...More." She lightly tickled his pubic hair with her free hand countering the hard deep movement with the light tease. Mulder made a dark thrumming noise from deep in his chest with each stroke. She heard him call out a word that sounded like "Yes," but it came out as a long low hiss.

She could feel the tightening of his balls as they drew up against his body again, getting ready to release and bring him into pleasure. But she wanted to kiss him as he came, she wanted to see him and feel him. So she slowly withdrew her mouth from his cock, wrapped her hand around the base of his shaft tightly and began stroking, a smooth transition.

As her firm hand took control of his body, harder and quicker than her mouth had been, Mulder opened his mouth and groaned deeply with pleasure. Sully lay beside him as she covered his lips with her own and his hand cupped the back of her head to pull her into him, thrusting his tongue into her mouth as he thrust his hips into her hand. Suddenly he pulled his mouth from hers, gasping for air, as his eyes slammed shut and his head tossed back against the pillow. "Oh, God. God...Ahhhhh..."

He turned his face back to hers and his eyes opened briefly, looking at her with glazed craving as he came. Then he closed them as another pleasure contraction took him away and he thrust his hips with each pulsing stroke of his orgasm. She reached over to kiss him again, his hot breath and deep moans vibrating their way into her mouth. Scully felt the tremble of his body under her hands as she stroked him through to his completion. As the tremors rolled through him, his semen spattered the skin of his belly and chest. As the hard spasms eased, he spiraled down and she slowed her hand movements, bringing him down delicately back to earth. His mouth under hers became soft, his kiss gentle.

Finally, her hand went still, no longer sliding over the slickened flesh and her hard grip relaxed as she felt his cock began to soften. She stroked once more slowly from base to the rounded head as Mulder's entire body jerked with hypersensitivity. He drew away from her kiss slowly, taking a cooling breath. He lay against her, his sweaty face so near hers, his breath brushing her face as he recovered. He swallowed and moistened his lips with his tongue and his face had that exhausted, depleted look that he sometimes had when he returned from a hard run. When he'd pushed his body to its limits.

She let go of his cock and reached to smooth his spiky hair off his forehead. At her touch, he opened his eyes and looked at her before closing them again as his lips curved in a gentle smile. She cradled his head against the crook of her neck and his hand came up to caress her face before falling back weakly. She felt him nuzzling against her skin as he fell into what appeared to be a contented deep languor, his body still and heavy now against her.

She wasn't in the least unhappy about that; in fact, it made her smile. She knew that the harder a man came, the faster he fell afterwards. Her purpose well accomplished and she felt a sweet satisfaction in that. Watching Mulder thrash in unbearable pleasure at her touch and hearing the deep-throated sounds he'd made as the orgasm ripped through him had been the sexiest thing she'd ever seen in her life. She looked down the length of his splendid body. So alive and so beautiful.

It was no accident that she'd come beautifully their first time together last night. She'd never been able to achieve that her first time with anybody before Mulder, it has usually taken a while to get comfortable enough to allow herself to take the pleasure too. Of course, she thought with amusement, they'd had six years of foreplay. Even for her that was plenty. God knows, there'd been more times than she could count when a simple look from him across the desk in the office had made her stick to the chair.

But right now, she was aching with want of release, a burning that nagged to be doused. She longed to send a hand down to take care of herself, but the truth was she felt hesitant about that with him so nearby. Certainly not from any sense that it was wrong, she'd become well acquainted with her right hand in recent years and she came quickly and easily when she stroked herself. But at those times, she was alone; there was no one there to see her, to hear her.

No one there to know her.

As a young girl in Catholic school, she'd been amused by the seemingly quaint use of the phrase, "to know," when the bible talked of sexual relations. It was only later that she realized how accurate that phrase was. It wasn't quaint at all--it was the stone truth.

With the men before Mulder, it had become simply easier to do the pleasuring than to receive it. It had made her feel good to make someone else feel the ecstasy and she'd quickly learned what was needed to deliver that. However, with one hellish exception that she barely remembered because she'd done so well at pretending it hadn't happened, she'd pretty much been in a long dry spell for the last few years. But in this case, absence hadn't made the heart grow fonder, instead, it only made it insecure and unsure and she protected it the only way she knew how--with control. And in the end, it didn't matter if her control was professional, emotional or sexual, she feared its loss in front of another. Even one she trusted with her life. It was one thing to make love to Mulder in the protective darkness and another entirely to ask for what she needed in bright, open sunlit room where he could see into her eyes, into her mind. Where she couldn't hide and couldn't pretend.

Where he would know her completely.

God, why did she do this to herself, she thought. Why did she have to fucking think the joy out of everything, even Mulder. The well-sated man lying against her was uninhibited in his feelings, so open and deeply sensual. So willing to take risks, to let her in, to let her take control even in his rare weak moments and in doing so, he became more fearless and braver than she was. He could show her much about living that way, if she could bring herself to let him. 

Exasperated with herself, she looked back over at Mulder and as she did so, a wave of tenderness for him washed over her. She reached down, picked up one corner of the flannel top sheet and gently wiped Mulder's belly dry of its baby batter. As she did so, she scooped one small remaining dollop on her finger. She lifted it to her lips and tasted it. Tasted him.

"I'm not asleep, Scully," she heard him say.

Oh God. As she looked up, she saw that Mulder had been watching her with dozy eyes. She felt herself blush and his lips curved into a smile at that. He rolled towards her and his hand skimmed down her body. She felt his fingers quickly slide underneath her panties, between her thighs and into the slickness there. He brought his hand back up to his own mouth, running his fingertips over his lips as she watched. Then he leaned in and kissed her, their individual flavors mingling on their lips.

Releasing her slowly, he began to kiss his way down the length of her body, curling over her. He delved into her navel with his tongue, something she'd never thought of as an erogenous zone. But it was, oh, it was. He snagged a hold of the panties, sliding them down and off, where they were abandoned to the floor. His hand pressed gently at her inner thigh, pushing it apart from the other and she felt his rough tongue run over the delicate, tender skin of the crease and the sensation caused a tremulous feeling. As he continued to kiss her lower belly, she felt his fingers sliding over her, again seeking the hard nub of her clit and then down lower to press up inside her. He lifted his head from where it lay on her belly and she knew where he was headed. And suddenly, the unwelcome interference of her mind took her body back from him and she drew back slightly.

Mulder felt her tense up, felt her pull away and he stopped what he was doing. "Did I do something wrong?" he asked turning his head to look at her. Although she didn't look at him, she shook her head. "I'm sorry, I just wanted--"

"Oh God, Mulder. It's not you," she blurted out. "It's me. You didn't do anything wrong."

As he looked up at her, she finally met his eyes for just a second and he could see the chagrin there before she turned away on her side. He saw the blush run on her skin and Mulder finally realized she was embarrassed by her own reaction, by her pulling away.

He sighed a bit in relief. God knows, it'd been a while since he'd touched anyone and he'd been worried about pleasing her. Really worried. It was one thing to indulge in pretty conventional sex in the dark of the night and another thing entirely to move things along to even more intimate pleasures. So the pressure had been on him so to speak. Especially considering Scully had just almost made his ears bleed with her mouth and hands. And yet here she was feeling shy about wanting him to touch her in the same manner, about letting him see her let go her tight rein and indulge in pleasure as he had. The extremes in Scully never failed to amaze him, but this he could deal with. Reluctant Scully was someone he'd dealt with nearly every day for six years and he knew how to reach her.

He crawled back up her body until he was lying behind her. But he didn't touch her right away. He just let her have a moment to war with herself because he already knew she was kicking herself in the ass mentally and it was best just to let her do it. Finally he reached out and trailed his finger along her shoulder, just soothing it back and forth as he let the silence build a moment before leaning in to whisper in her ear.

"So, are you afraid I'm going to make fun of your scrunchy orgasm face, Scully?"

In spite of herself, she smiled at his teasing, its warm familiarity putting her at ease. As usual, he knew exactly which button of hers to push, she thought. "No, I'm not afraid that you're going to make fun of my scrunchy orgasm face," she answered, then paused a moment. "It's just... it's so hard for me to let go and be myself, even when I want to, even when I'm with you. God, this is embarrassing..." she muttered as she trailed off.

Mulder propped his head on his hand and smoothed the other through her hair, his fingers sliding lightly over her scalp. "I know that you trust me, Scully," he said and she nodded without hesitation. "And I trust you, so I can tell you it's not like I've had hands-on practice with anyone except myself for a hell of a long time. I mean, you just gave me an incredible, take-it-to-my grave experience...Did it ever occur to you that after that my confidence level at reciprocating isn't what you think?"

Scully was silent as he looked down at her profile but she closed her eyes a moment and he could tell from the expression on her face that his words struck a chord in her.

"I...I..." she paused. "No, Mulder. I didn't think of that, I'm sorry." She was silent a moment and then he saw her lips finally curve again in a wry smile. "I guess, I just figured you had the benefit of watching all those training films over the years."

Mulder grinned at the warm humor in her voice as she came back to him. "Nobody ever has bad sex in a porn movie, Scully. But believe it or not, I do know it's not real, " he said, drawing a small chuckle from her.

He moved closer behind her, sliding one arm underneath her to cradle her back against his body as his other arm closed around her. He began to nuzzle along her shoulder and neck as he felt her relax against back him. He idly caressed her breast with his hand, feeling its soft weight in his hand. After a moment, he stopped his ministrations and rested his chin on her shoulder as he spoke.

"OK, so I guess what we have here is that you're terrified about asking for what you need sexually and I'm terrified because pretty much all my recent expertise comes from watching strangers fake orgasms to bad disco music. Jesus--no wonder this took six years."

Scully burst out laughing as the stupidity of it all and he joined her. She turned her face to look up at him for the first time. "God, we're a mess."

He leaned down to kiss her deeply before drawing back just slightly. "Yeah, but we're a mess together, so it's OK, isn't it?"

She touched his face and nodded. "It's more than OK. It's perfect-- who else would have us?"

"Exactly." Mulder looked down at her and his expression turned more serious. "Scully, I want to make you feel good," he said quietly. "I want to show you how I feel. But I need you to let me...and I need you to help me."

Scully kissed him again. "Don't ever think I don't want you."

He began to stroke the length of her body again as he moved in even closer against her, pressing his chest to her back. He felt her settle in fully against him as he brought his knee up between her legs, separating her thighs with his own. His fingers reached down to brush against her pubic hair again. "Take my hand, Scully," he requested calmly in her ear, his breath tingling through her and she placed her hand over his. "Show me," he asked as he sucked gently on her earlobe, kissed and nuzzled against her neck. She arched her neck so that she could better enjoy what he was doing with that mouth of his. Then she took his hand and moved it down between her legs, settling his fingers in the right place against her body.

Mulder flicked his finger and Scully's body moved in response. "There?" She nodded. "How?" he asked, and after a moment's hesitation, she guided his fingers in a small circular motion. She was actually too wet. Using her own fingers she wiped away some of the slickness so that friction of his touch was rougher. His fingers again touched the place she'd showed him and moved in the motion and rhythm. He looked down at her face, at her eyes tightly shut, her lips parted and he could see her concentration focused on the rising feeling in her body. "What does it feel like, Scully?"

She could barely hear him through the heat flash rising in her, but she tried to tell him what he asked for. "Delicious...intense..." .She moistened her lips. "More..." she asked. 

He upped her pleasure, moving in the harder motion she asked for. His other hand pressed against her lower belly, holding her to him as she writhed over the thigh between her legs. He felt her press against his hand and he increased the motion, sharper, and more firmness, climbing the ladder. Then as he watched, Scully gave a sharp exclaim and her head tossed back against his shoulder, her lips parted. He felt her entire body contract, once, twice, three times as her legs squeezed against his thigh. "Oh, God," she whispered, drawing in a deep breath. Then she slowly lost her rigidity, relaxing back against his arms. Mulder stroked back her hair and lay kisses on her damp cheek as she recovered. She took his hand and brought it up to her lips, kissing the back of it softly before holding it against her breasts.

He smiled at the gesture. It'd been good for her and he felt elated about that; last night wasn't a fluke. He gave a small laugh--they were going to be very, very good at this. "Hey, Scully?"

"Hmmmm?"

"Your scrunchy orgasm face is beautiful."

She smiled contentedly. "So is yours, Mulder."

"Oh really?"

"Really." Her voice was sleepy sounding belying the idea that it was only men who fell asleep afterwards. "The most perfect thing I've ever seen...Better than roses."

Mulder laughed with embarrassed enjoyment at the absurd comparison as she fell asleep in his arms. But the truth was, she'd never said anything nicer to him and he'd remember it forever. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was very late afternoon when Scully woke up having finally caught up on some much-needed sleep. She'd only had about five hours total over the last few days. Mulder was again gone from her bed. Their bed, she corrected mentally. But from the open doorway to the hall, she heard the TV downstairs and the unmistakable sound of a football game being played. That's right, it was still Christmas day, she'd almost forgotten. Of course, there would be holiday games on.

She got out of bed and dressed. As she did so, she looked out over the fields behind the house. Some clouds had rolled in and the sun was almost down anyway. A winter wind had kicked up and it was blowing the trees about quite a bit; it looked like it might rain later. She wouldn't mind that, she loved the rain when she wasn't out in it running for her life through the mud. It was much more preferable to sit inside with a hot drink and watch it come down. Safe, warm, and secure with Mulder.

With Mulder, she thought again, and words made her smile. How many days and nights had she spent with him in some cheesy motel watching the rain come down, and with always the same secure feelings? She'd come to him in a rainstorm on that first case together when fear had made her chuck off her clothes in front of a man she barely knew and yet had somehow trusted that he would help her. And he'd never made her feel small about that moment or any moment since.

But even so, she'd done her best to grind down that girl who'd showed her emotions or need so freely. But Mulder had never let her kill her completely; in fact, he'd saved that girl more often than he would ever know. It was as though he'd seen a glimpse of her on that first night and knew she always lurked below her other carefully controlled surface. He knew she was there.

Mulder knew her. And her acceptance of that finally left a peacefulness she'd not known before. A Christmas gift to herself, if you will.

A delicious aroma now slowly wafted up the stairs. He was cooking something and her mouth watered as she realized she hadn't eaten since last night. She headed down the stairs and into the kitchen. Hearing her enter, he turned and gave her that slightly shy smile of his. She understood the emotion; they were still getting used to this intimacy. Not just the sex, but the feeling of being unconstrained with each other.

She came to stand next to him at the stove and he bent to kiss her lightly. "I'm making breakfast for dinner," he said. "Ham and eggs with hash browns. Is that OK?"

"It's perfect and I'm starving."

"Me too. Scrambled OK? I pretty much suck at anything else and I know you usually like it over-easy."

It was on the tip of her tongue to make a lascivious double-entendre joke about preferring it over-hard, but she refrained. However, he saw the high spirits in her eyes, got the silent joke and smiled conspiratorially.

"Scrambled is fine, Mulder. Can I help?"

"Yeah, the toast needs to be done. Which wine goes with ham and eggs?"

She loaded the toaster up. "I don't know, Mulder, but my guess would be white, but I can call Martha Stewart if you want an authority."

"Nah, I trust you, Scully."

Of course, they still didn't have a corkscrew, but he repeated the same procedure from the previous night, with much better success this time. When the meal was ready, they skipped eating in the breakfast nook and headed back to the living room where they sat with their feet on the coffee table and watched the game. Mulder felt the need to feed her his toast with his fingers and she enjoyed licking the bits of warm butter and sweet jelly from his fingers.

Food had rarely tasted so good.

After dinner, they decided to go for a walk down the road a bit. Mulder loaned her one of his heavier sweaters and laughed when it fell to ridiculous lengths on her. They were companionably quiet together as they walked, just enjoying the crisp chill of the night. He reached out and took her hand as they looked at the stars. And they didn't talk of extraterrestrials.

As Scully suspected earlier, a dense cloud cover started to form over and they made it home just as it started to rain very lightly. Before going in, they went around back to see if there was some firewood stockpiled behind the garage. Mulder carried it in and set to work building a fire that was soon crackling with warmth. As he worked, she took his coat and hung it up in the front closet. But the heavy thing kept sliding irritatingly off the old wooden hanger and down the closet floor. She bent down to get it and as she did so, she saw the canisters of film sitting in an open box on the floor of the closet. Curious, she picked one of them up. The hand-lettered label was faded and hard to make out, it looked like it said, "4th of July."

"Mulder?" she called.

He came back into the hallway to see her crouched down, halfway in the closet. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"What are these?"

He looked over her shoulder at what was in her hand. "They're just what they look like, Scully, old eight-millimeter home movies."

"Can we watch them?"

He stared down at her incredulously. "Let me get this right--you actually *want* to watch someone else's home movies? Don't you know that's considered an alternative to capital punishment in some states?"

"Well hell, I've already seen my share of dead, rotting, exsanguinated cows in your slide shows over the years; how much worse could this be?" Scully tugged the box out of the closet.

"This is the Mulder clan, Scully. Trust me, it could get pretty strange. Are you sure about this?"

"No, I want to see them. Really." Suddenly, she thought the better of it and looked up at him. "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking...of course, we don't have to if it makes you uncomfortable."

"No, no, it doesn't bother me." He smiled a little at her concern. "But I am beginning to think you're a little weird."

"Of course, I'm weird--or have you failed to notice that I cut up bodies for a living?" She stood up, dusting her hands off as he chuckled. "Of course, this is all a moot point if you don't have a projector. I don't see one in here."

"We had one. Unless Mom took it with her, it's probably out in the garage."

They headed out into the garage and after several minutes of shoving around dusty boxes, they found the projector on a back shelf, still in its case. They carried it back inside and decided that the white wall above the fireplace would work just fine as a screen since the couch faced it. Mulder unpacked the ancient projector and set it up on a table behind the couch. He stared at it a moment before turning to her. "I suppose you're going to expect me to know how to thread this thing?"

"We can call The Lone Gunmen if you need help. I'm sure Frohike had a lot of experience with projectors before the advent of video tape."

She giggled a little at her own joke and he looked up at the unusual sound, it made him smile. "Wow--you're in a mood tonight, Scully. I'm going to have to watch your wine consumption."

Scully just squinted at him in reply. Mulder found a spare bulb in the little storage area of the case and inserted it in the housing, then set to work loading the first reel on, threading it carefully through the machine. She watched him work, admiring his hands. She loved Mulder's hands, she always had. Almost as much as the sound of his voice, which had been the first thing she fell in love with. She was feeling absurdly grateful to be able to just sit here and observe him as much as she wanted. Thank God for Frohike, she thought suddenly. And that reminded her of something she'd meant to say to him. "Mulder, did I tell you that Frohike is the reason I came here?"

He stopped what he was doing and looked over at her. "How so?"

"When I was stuck at the airport, I called around trying to find you. He answered your phone at your apartment and told me where you were. He's the one who suggested I come up here."

"He did?"

She nodded. "He told me that he was sure you wouldn't mind. I don't know if I would have had the courage to come up here if he hadn't. Oh, and by the way, he said to tell you that he is feeding your fish and he's not going to just replace the dead ones like last time."

He smiled a little. "I'll have to remember to thank him."

"For me or for the fish?"

"For you, Scully. I can always buy new fish."

She smiled at his reassurance. "He's a good friend to you, Mulder. He once told me you were redwood among mere sprouts."

He looked up again, clearly surprised. "Frohike said that?"

"Yes. Of course, he thought you were dead."

He laughed at the qualifier. "I guess I'm going to have to take back some of the crummy things I've said about him. Ok, I think I've got this ready. You sure you want to do this, Scully? Last chance."

"Let her go, Mulder."

He started the projector and then climbed back over the back of the couch and settled back against Scully as she held him. She pulled the blanket down off the back of the couch and tucked it over them, reached over and turned out the light as they focused on the flickering images on the wall.

Over the next several hours, Scully watched, in no particular order, movies of babies coming home with beaming mothers and proud fathers, first days at school and visits to the beach. She saw Indian Guides and Girl Scout meetings. She saw Christmases, birthday parties, and family picnics as they worked their way through the rolls and Mulder became adept at changing the reels in about thirty seconds.

His narration was also typically droll and their laughter got out of control on occasion. Of course, the bottle of wine they finished off helped that. As they watched, she noticed that there were many more reels from the time before Samantha was taken, and only a few in the years after. It was as though documenting the family events had taken on considerably less importance. But even so, in one of the later reels, obviously on his way to a homecoming dance, there stood a shaggy-haired Mulder wearing one of the typically awful polyester tuxedos from the late seventies. She opened her mouth...

"Don't say a word, Scully," he warned, glancing at her over his shoulder. "Not one word or I'm shutting this off. "

Scully bit her lip and nodded meekly, although he could hear the barely suppressed snicker under her breath. The next reel they went back in time again, to what appeared to be a summer barbecue in the back yard with lots of adults and kids running about while his mother played hostess. Her hair hadn't been gray then; it was light brown like her son's. And as she laughed at something one of the guests said to her, Scully realized she'd never seen Mulder's mother smile. She was a beautiful woman. He pointed out his grandparents, both deceased now. He also pointed out his mother's sister and some assorted cousins. At one point, Mulder sat up a little straighter. "Shit."

"What Mulder?"

"That's Kurtzweil. In the background there, standing with my father."

"The Doctor you met last summer? The one who told you about the bees?" Scully looked the image of the tall man, beer in hand, talking to Bill Mulder. Everything seemed friendly and at one point, Kurtzweil even laughed at something Bill Mulder said.

"Yeah, I saw his picture in an old family photo album. I didn't realize he was in this too." Mulder stared at the flickering image then slowly relaxed back against Scully as he shook his head slightly. "I was surrounded by it, even as a child...I just didn't know."

She stroked his hair and said nothing for there was nothing to say. But as she looked down at his face, his mood didn't seem changed. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying the memories that he hadn't looked at in years and he laughed affectionately at something Samantha did as she played with another child at the picnic. The next images showed a little league baseball game. "Oh God, I remember this," he said excitedly as he pointed at the screen. "Watch this, Scully!"

She focused on the tall, slender boy who stepped up the plate, gripping the bat tightly. Strike one, strike two and then the boy proceeded to hit the ball clear over the center field fence. He ran the bases and came back to the plate to the cheers of his teammates. The boy turned towards the camera and grinned broadly for his father who photographed the moment. Young. Beautiful. Truly innocent. For probably one of the last times in his life. Scully looked at the boy on the screen and then down at the man in her arms, as she smiled proudly at him. "You were the hero."

He gave a small self-effacing chuckle. "Well, on that day anyway. I can still remember the crack of the bat in my hands, I knew it was long gone."

The next image flickering on the screen showed a different day and very young Samantha dressed up as a fairy princess. Tormenting her mercilessly behind their mother's back was her older brother who was wearing...Scully leaned forward slightly.

"Mulder...are you wearing Vulcan ears?"

"Of course, all the cool kids had them. Didn't you?"

"No, I guess I wasn't a cool kid. So you were a Star Trek fan?"

"Oh yeah, big time. I also liked the Outer Limits, The Magician, The Man from Uncle, and The Avengers. But Mr. Spock was The Man. I watched the re-runs all the time."

"So let me get this straight. As a kid you identified with the man of science, a man who suppressed his emotions and was ruled completely by logic?" She touched his hand where it lay over his belly, teasing his fingers with hers.

Mulder laughed as he toyed with her fingers and she moved hers with his in a playful dance. "I identified with Spock because he was always an outsider," he answered. "Never fully human, never fully Vulcan. Never quite at home."

Scully squeezed his fingers briefly before letting them go. "You felt that way? Even before what happened to Samantha?"

"No, not as much, but I've always felt a little off-kilter. I think trying to understand that is what led me to study psychology."

"What conclusion did you come to?"

"That I'm actually no different than anyone else and that everyone in the world is fucked up in their own way."

Scully laughed as she hugged him to her, kissing his ear and temple. "Ok, so who did you like better, Kirk or Picard?" she asked.

"Oh, Kirk. Definitely Kirk."

"Why? Because he got all the green alien babes?"

"Exactly. I may have felt out of step, but I wasn't crazy. Green alien babes look pretty damn good when you're fourteen."

"God, that reminds me. You didn't tell me your first-time story."

"You sure you want to hear it now? It's late and it's a long story. A really long story."

"I'm not going anywhere. You have a captive audience." She reached up behind them and turned off the projector and now the only light in the room came from the fireplace. She refilled each of their glasses with the remainder of the wine and Mulder settled back against her as her arms came around him.

"You make a good pillow, Scully."

"Thank you."

"OK, when I was sixteen years old, I got a summer job working with my friend Robert for his father's construction business, which pretty much meant that we did all the shit work the regular crew didn't want to do. We were renovating a small house near the beach. One day, it had to be over a hundred degrees and we were unloading pallets of bricks from a truck without the benefit of a forklift. We were dying in the heat. The woman who was renting the house next door must have seen us on the brink of sun stoke because she came over with glasses of ice tea and cold wet towels. God, she was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen up until then and I fell hard right there. I saw her every day for the next month and it all turned into the classic infatuation with an older woman. I found all sorts of excuses to stop by; I was always helping her with something around the house. Hell, I even helped her carry her groceries home once. She must have known I had a crush on her. I followed her around all summer like a damn puppy. But you know what? She never embarrassed me over it. You know how it was at sixteen, Scully--adults who know you still treat you like a kid. But she made me feel like an equal, like what I said mattered or was interesting. She listened to me, she laughed at my jokes, she never once made me feel like a geek, although that's probably exactly how I was acting."

Mulder laughed a little and so did Scully. But when he spoke again his voice was softer with memory. "I would stop by in the early evenings and we'd sit on her porch, watch the sunset, drink iced tea and talk about a million different things. She'd been a navy brat like you and she'd lived all over the world growing up. One day, she showed me a picture of her husband--She was married, or at least she considered herself married. She'd married him when she was seventeen. He was in the Special Forces in the military, but in 1973, he'd been reported missing in action. But she'd never been able to find out what he was doing when he went missing. It was all classified. But she believed that he'd been captured during a reconnaissance mission of some sort and that he was being held as a POW. There were over fifteen hundred men still unaccounted for when the U.S. left Vietnam and she was working with other military spouses who had information that some of these men were still held captive in Southeast Asia. And even as I was dying inside to find out that she was married, I felt outraged at her treatment. I admired her refusal to give up on him until she had an answer. The odds weren't on her side, but her resolve was amazing. Her love for him was amazing."

"It was almost the end of summer when I came by her house at the usual time. I saw that most of the lights were off, but the porch door was open. I heard music on the radio somewhere but I didn't see her so I called her name from the door. After a moment, she came out from the kitchen. Even in the low light, I could see something was wrong. She seemed so strangely calm and I felt something thick in the air, a tension. I didn't know what it was back then. She told me to come in and sit down and she went back to the kitchen. As I sat on the couch, I saw an opened telegram on the coffee table. It wasn't my business and I had no right, but I picked it up and read it. It was from the military. They'd found and identified her husband's remains. They were being shipped home."

Mulder fell silent a few moments. "They'd killed her hope, Scully," he finally said regretfully. "She'd hung on to it for years and with two sentences they took it all away from her. He wasn't in a prison camp and he wasn't coming home to her alive. I remember just staring at that telegram for a long time, knowing how the words must have hurt her as she read them. I stood up to leave, I knew I was intruding. Just then she came back into the living room and I looked at her as she set the drink on the table, trying to carry on like it was any other evening. When I looked at her face, I saw that she'd obviously cried herself out in the hours before I got there and now, she just looked hollow. She saw the telegram in my hand and she simply took it from me and folded it carefully back into its envelope on the table then looked up at me."

"I didn't know what to say, this was beyond my experience. I just put my arms around her, she laid her head on my shoulder, and I just held her. And that was the first time that I really realized that I was taller than she was. She'd always been so strong, so confident, that she'd seemed bigger.... I guess I'd idealized her. But the reality was that she was only twenty-five. Just twenty-five and her heart was broken. And she felt so small and so vulnerable as I held her."

"After a moment she looked up at me and I saw that she needed me. I don't mean sexually, I mean she needed me to make her feel strong again, make her feel that she wasn't alone. I didn't know what to say to make her feel that way, so I took her face in my hands and kissed her, and she kissed me back so softly. It wasn't my first kiss, but it was the first one that went straight into my heart. Then she took my hand and led me back to her little bedroom where I made love for the first time. And for the first time, I felt like a man. Not because I was having sex but because she needed me."

"She sent me on home a few hours later. When I came back the next evening, the little house was closed up. I expected that I think. I'd always known she was going to leave when the summer was over. But she left me a note pinned to the front door. She'd told me she'd left the island that morning. There were still other families who needed their answers and she had a responsibility to them. She...she thanked me for taking care of her that night, and told me that I'd been important to her that summer and that she'd always remember me."

Mulder's voice trailed off as he fell silent again and Scully knew his thoughts had wandered back twenty years to another woman who'd held him in her arms. She threaded her fingers through his hair, then caressed his face and she felt him rub his cheek into her hand, his reverie broken by her touch. She pulled the blanket up a little closer around them and he nestled in a little closer, as his breathing fell slow. She could tell he was on the verge of sleep, but she wanted to know one more thing before he went under. "What was her name, Mulder?" she asked.

"Her name was Amy," he answered quietly.

She smiled gently as she thought of the bittersweet story, feeling strangely grateful to Amy for treating Mulder's young heart so tenderly and that she'd understood his value. She'd given him something he'd needed too, although she probably hadn't realized it at the time. Scully kissed the top of his head, as he yawned, causing a responsive yawn in her. But then he spoke quietly. "You know...I've never told anyone that story, Scully."

She understood that. It wasn't the kind of story that teenaged boys wanted to tell each other during that time of adolescence when it was more about conquest and bragging rights and so little about love. "I'm glad you told it to me."

"You're the only person I could trust with it."

Savoring those words, Scully closed her eyes too and they feel asleep together on the couch.

When Mulder awoke a few hours later, he felt a sense of familiarity because he was on the couch. However, the fact that he was in Scully's arms with his head cradled against her breasts was certainly something he wasn't accustomed to. But he could be, he thought, oh man, he could be.

He turned over carefully and looked at her long time. She looked so damn beautiful by firelight and he felt such a tender desire for her that he needed to touch her, feel her warm skin under his hands. He moved up her body to kiss her awake softly. Just enjoying the languid pleasure of brushing his mouth to hers, teasing lightly. After a moment, she responded and he felt her hands slide through his hair. When he drew away, she looked at him with sleepy eyes and smiled as she drew him back to her. Having started this, he was content to enjoy her affectionate exploration as he held her. Her breath was warm on his skin and her mouth caressed his. 

Scully moved to kiss his face where she could, his nose, his eyebrow, his closed eyes, slowly, gently. Then she pulled his sweatshirt off over his head as the blanket slipped to the floor. She ran her hands over the sleek skin of his back, feeling the curve of his shoulder blades and the long hollow of his spine under her fingers.

He grasped the edge of her sweater, tugged it off her, and lowered his face back to her naked breasts. The curve and pliant weight of her breasts felt wonderful. He nuzzled his nose and face against her smooth skin and over her nipple, which hardened in response to his touch. He ran his tongue over the flesh, and then closed his mouth over it, sucking deeply and nibbling gently.

Scully closed her eyes as the wet tugging on her flesh washed a warm tide over her. She cradled the back of his head, holding him against her as her other hand smoothed over the skin on his shoulders. Mulder lifted his mouth just long enough to look at her as he kissed her again, feeling her slide her tongue along his lips, gaining entry. After a moment, he moved back to her other breast, sliding one arm under her to hold her against him. He sat up slowly, bringing her with him. He pulled both the sweats and then her panties off and they worked together to get his remaining clothes off, separating only moments between kisses and caresses to dispose of the fabric obstacles between them.

Mulder sat back against the couch and Scully moved astride him as his arms circled her body, guiding her very slowly. She wrapped her arms around shoulders, pressing her face into the curve of his neck as he entered her, filling and stretching as she settled down slowly upon him. There was a considerable amount of Mulder to take in and the fit pleased them both in different ways. She began movements that were shallow, unrushed, just enjoying his feel within. "Oh, God, you feel so good, Scully," he said in her ear.

She kissed his neck and smiled at him and the simplicity of the words. "You feel good too, Mulder. All of you." His hands settled on her thighs on either side of his. He stroked up and down her skin, first deeply and then dragging just his fingertips so lightly, tickling, as she rocked so very gracefully against him. Mulder flexed his hips slowly up into her as he looked into her eyes, enjoying the bliss he saw there. And together, they moved with exquisite care, completely unhurried, just receiving pleasure and satisfaction from the feel of the other's body.

Scully took Mulder's face in her hands, watching his expression, as she loved him with her body. His hands moved over her and she felt the coil tightening within, ready to break free. His fingers moved between their bodies seeking her center. "There. Oh yes, there," she told him softly. His own slight thrusting stopped as he filled her completely and held her against him as only his fingers moved, increasing the delicate arousal inside her, leading her to the edge and then pushing her over it within minutes. Scully's arriving orgasm was a long one. Not the hardest one she'd ever had, but the most emotionally satisfying, the pleasure born of his tenderness and devotion, not just of physical release. She opened her eyes to see him watching her come with satisfaction in his eyes. She needed to tell him how she felt about him. "Mulder, I..." but he covered her mouth with his own before she could say more, kissing her slowly, pulling her close in his arms against his chest as he now continued his deep and slow movements within her.

It seemed to go on forever, he seemed in no hurry, and she'd never felt so completely possessed by another. Mulder's face turned into her neck, his breath hot and moist against her skin. She cradled his head against her, holding him tightly as she felt him now begin to increase his movements as she tightened around him as his own release commenced. She heard just a barely audible his low moan and he held his breath as he came, low and shuddering. He was almost silent, she could feel him more than hear him, and it was as though the intensity drained him of the ability to be vocal. His hands on her back tensed along with the rest of his body and then relaxed back. He finally drew breath again and Scully reached down to turn his face up to hers. Mulder's lips were gently parted and she felt his chest rise and fall against her as he breathed. As he looked up at her, his expression was exquisitely euphoric, his hazel eyes filled with soft tenderness for her.

God, he was beautiful. Nothing had ever felt that sweet or that satisfying. She kissed him lovingly and they stayed that way together a long time. She moved slowly off him and stretched back down on the long couch as Mulder moved to lie beside her. He reached down and pulled the blanket back up over them as he settled in against her, his warm, naked body, pressing along the length of hers, their legs tangled together and her head pressed against his shoulder.

"This was another good day, Mulder" she said softly.

"Yes, it was," he agreed, his drowsy voice was warm in ear. "And we still have more coming," he murmured just as he fell asleep.

She kissed his chest gently, tasting the slightly salty flavor of him.

"Yes, we do."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They spent the next day back over at his father's house where they finished the yard work that had started this whole thing. They made a run to the store for sandwiches and more groceries. Then they spent the afternoon sitting under a tree in an impromptu picnic. They talked about little things they'd rarely talked about like books and movies and music and politics. And of course, as they returned to the yard work, the argument went on all afternoon over whose preferences were the superior ones. In short, some things would never change between them. Verbal and intellectual foreplay was always going to be one of their strongest bonds. As stimulating as the physical play that they also indulged in now.

When they arrived back at Mulder's house, it was dark and cold. Scully was an odd combination of tired, sweaty, dirty, freezing, and euphoric. But it had been an excellent day and she planned to have an even better evening. It was all she'd thought about all afternoon and she knew he'd spent the day in teasing anticipation too. After she hung up her coat, she turned to him. "Mulder, I'm going to go upstairs and take a bath."

He smiled a little. "Can I watch?"

"You not only can watch, you can help."

He raised an eyebrow just slightly. "I've always been kind of a shower guy."

"Are you saying you don't want to help me take a bath?"

"No, I'm just wondering if the tub big enough," he teased her.

"I think we can work it out, we're kind of like a jigsaw with interlocking pieces you know." He grinned at her, clearly liking her analogy. "So go get out of those grungy clothes, put on a robe and meet me in the master bathroom in a few minutes."

"You want me to wear a robe in the tub?" he asked just to irritate her.

He was rewarded when she gave him that look that indicated she'd just about reached her Mulder-shit threshold for the day. But then she smiled quite beguilingly at him and said lowly, "No, I want you to wear a robe so I can take it off you."

This was going to be interesting.

Ten minutes later he was wearing his ratty old flannel robe from high school and watching Scully's ritual of preparing the bath. God, she was lighting candles and pouring scented oils and swirling bubble soap like a witch's cauldron. She'd obviously done some planning here. So much for wondering if Scully had ever fantasized about him, he thought and that realization went right to his head and gut. Scully was playing, she was being open about what she wanted, she'd done a lot of that in the last few days and he smiled that she was letting herself just enjoy all this without thinking it to death. "Where did you get this stuff?" he asked.

"I brought some of it for my vacation and the rest when we were in the market today."

"I didn't see all this in the cart."

"Of course not, in the check-out line you had your head buried in that Globe cover story on gigantic Texas Vampire bats."

"It was research, you never know when we might run into RV driving vampires again." She laughed at his joke, and he loved it when he could make her laugh. He watched her finish her preparations and she was finally pleased with the level of candlelight, the temperature of the water, the consistency of bubbles and the right level of intoxicating aroma. It was like one of her lab experiments he thought in wonder. "So do you do all this at home?"

"I rarely bathe with naked men at home, Mulder. Or, on the road for that matter."

"Oh good, I was worried there for a moment."

Scully turned back to him and met his eyes and as she looked at him, she slowly untied her robe and let it slide from her shoulders and suddenly he understood why people went through all this ritual. The scent in the room was clean, sweet, and inviting and she looked just fucking beautiful. The steam from the water had dampened her hair and made her face flush. The candlelight threw wondrous shadows and wavering color over the hollows and curves of her body. God, she was little, but she was damn powerful. She was killing him right there.

Scully thought that if she lived to be a hundred years old, she'd always remember how Mulder looked at her, the hunger and craving in his face. For her. Dear God, for her. He probably thought she was seducing him, but the reality was that his responses to her were the sexiest thing she'd ever seen herself and she just wanted more. She wanted him to look at her like that forever. Scully approached him, and then reached out to push open his robe a little bit to reveal his chest, already burnished from the moisture in the room. She kissed his neck and chest, rubbing against him as she reached to untie his robe. Grasping the edges, she parted it slowly as she kissed his chest and then down his belly. She grasped on to his cock and stroked it as she assaulted his navel with her tongue. A few moments later she knelt on the thick throw rug and took him in her mouth. Slowly pleasuring him as he hardened under her tongue.

Mulder felt flush from the heat, the sweat, and the touch of the woman before him. He began to breathe heavily as he passed his fingers through her hair. Her hands reached around to grasp onto his ass, cupping the roundness and pulling him to her as she worked his body and his erotic desire began to warm his blood. After a moment, she withdrew her mouth from his cock, slowly working her way back up his body as she stood slowly. She reached up to push the robe off his shoulders and moved into arms, pressing her body into the length of his, just rubbing against him as his arms came around to hold her naked body to his. Finally, she stepped back from him, turned, and entered the tub, beckoning him to follow her.

Mulder also stepped into the tub and slowly sank down in the hot scented water. He lay back against the angled back of the deep old tub, resting his head on the rim as he looked up at the woman in front of him. She turned around and sat down between his legs that he drew up to cradle her as she laid back against his chest. "See, I told you we'd fit, Mulder," she said as she relaxed back against him as though in her favorite chair, her sweet ass caressing against his cock and balls.

He laughed. "And you were right, Scully." The water displaced from their bodies splashed over the edge of the tub on to the tile floor, pooling over to the large thick rug in the center of the room. They didn't care.

Under the water, he ran his hands over her oil-smoothed skin. He massaged her lower belly and slid his fingers through the curls of her pubic hair, fluffing and tugging slightly. Her head fell back against his shoulder as she just luxuriated in his touch, the natural feeling of his body pressed against hers and the primal feel of the warm water. His hands covered her breasts and he massaged firmly. She welcomed the pressure and pressed against him.

After a moment, Mulder snagged a hold of the bath puff as it floated by. He rubbed a generous amount of creamy soap on it, working up a thick and silky lather. Reaching around Scully he began to stroke the length of her thighs, sliding down and then back, moving smoothly under the water. He paid careful attention to her knee, which popped up above the water line, before slipping to the inside of her thigh and working the tender skin there. He switched hands, added more soap, and worked on the other leg a while before starting on the length of her arms. He let the puff float away again and used both of his hands to wash each of hers. Building the lather, his fingers stroking and twining with hers, he rinsed her left hand and placed it back along his thigh. He took her right hand and rinsed it, slowly moving back and forth under the water, sending gentle ripples.

He slowly, slowly guided her hand down her belly, moving it to the apex of her thighs. He nudged her fingers into place over her clit. He began to move her middle finger slowly over the nub, feeling Scully open her thighs even further in response. He found his way inside her with the fingers of his other hand, filling her, thrusting in as deep as he could reach from his position. She felt the slow thrumming pressure began to stir within her and she pressed back against him, rubbing against his cock with her soft bottom and hearing his soft exclamation.

But after a few moments he slowly pulled her hand away and removed his fingers, having teased her almost to completion just as she'd done him earlier. The game's ante being upped with each touch from the other. They rested a few moments and then he placed his hand on her shoulder and nudged her forward slightly. She bent forward; resting her arms on her knees as Mulder began to slide the puff on along her shoulders, moving in small circular motions, working his way down the smooth expanse of skin of her back. With a contented sigh, Scully bent even further forward to give him more access to her back.

As she did, the tattoo on her lower back came fully into his view and Mulder paused a moment. Truth was, he'd pretty much forgotten about it and he'd never really seen it clearly. He bent to look at the thing that had caused so much trouble. He passed the sponge over the design, and then rinsed the lather away as he touched it with his fingers, tracing the outline of the Ouroboros symbol. There was no getting around it, he thought. It was ugly. And it reminded him of an ugly time between them, a time he still didn't understand because like many things between them, they'd never talked about it.

Scully felt his fingers on her back and knew what he was looking at. She waited for him to say something but he didn't. "Do you hate it, Mulder?" she finally asked.

"I don't actually hate it, Scully," he answered honestly. "I just don't understand it. What about this appealed to you? Why this design?"

He looked over her shoulder at her profile and she was a long time answering, he felt her go slightly tense under his fingers before she finally answered. "At the time, it seemed an appropriate symbol of my life."

Mulder knew that he could, and probably should, let it got at this point, but his ever-present need to understand the unknown pushed him forward. "How so?" he asked as he moved his arms around her and brought her back to lay against his chest again.

"If the serpent continues to swallow its tail, it will eventually reduce itself to a single point and vanish from the universe entirely. And if it doesn't, it's just an endless circle going nowhere. Maybe not the traditional interpretation, but it's how I felt."

"That sounds so hopeless, Scully. Why were you feeling that way? Because you knew you were getting sick?"

Scully took a deep breath as she shifted in his arms. God, it was very tempting to blame it all on her illness, it would be so easy, so convenient. It was the perfect defense and one he would readily accept. But it would also be a lie and she'd lied enough, both to Mulder and to herself, during that period to last a lifetime. They'd never talked about this and they needed to. Especially now that she had the benefit of hindsight, when the feelings that had once seemed so cluttered in her mind, now seemed so obvious. She shook her head in response to his questions.

"I wasn't even really thinking about what Leonard Betts had said to me. I didn't have any symptoms except a nosebleed, which I didn't pay much attention to. No, I felt that way because I was angry. Because I was pinning for things I thought I was missing. Things I kept telling myself I didn't need."

"What were you missing?"

"I was missing feeling like I mattered in any context beyond the work. I was missing the feeling that you get when you come home tired and someone is there for you with gentle voice and dinner on the table. I was missing someone even giving a damn if I even did come home. And I was missing physical contact too. Shit, Mulder, I was missing sex, I was missing being held or touched or kissed. I was missing feeling alive. I was missing... this," she moved her hand along the surface of the bubbly water. "And you and the X-files were very convenient."

"Convenient?"

"Convenient to blame. Convenient to make responsible for what I didn't have instead of making myself responsible." Scully gave a deep sigh. "So by the time I got to Philadelphia and met Ed Jerse, this symbol just seemed exactly where I was at that point and I went looking for what I was missing."

Mulder didn't respond right away. "And you found it with Ed Jerse?" he finally asked.

Scully nodded slowly. "I fooled myself into thinking that a few hours...but it wasn't real."

Mulder held her, his hand trailing over her skin in an unconscious manner, remembering his confusion about her behavior both before she'd left for Philadelphia and after she'd come back. Her refusal to talk to him about whatever was so obviously wrong had made him feel that she didn't trust him and he'd tried hard to quell his hurt over that. The truth was that he'd cared far more about the fact that she'd opened up emotionally to Ed Jerse than he did about her sleeping with him.

As though she heard his thoughts, Scully spoke again. "It wasn't that I didn't trust you. I couldn't tell you what I was feeling, it felt too...personal to me, and that wasn't what our relationship was about. I mean, I certainly couldn't ask you to provide the things I was missing. And you never seemed to miss those things; you seemed quite content with your life as it was. It just seemed embarrassing almost, like I was some pathetic loser; like I wasn't as strong as you. I...I was afraid you'd be disappointed in me."

"Jesus, Scully. How could you think so little of me? How could you think I would judge you so harshly?" His voice was just a little frustrated sounding.

"I didn't think so little of you, Mulder, I thought so little of myself. My whole existence has been about proving myself to the men in my life--you're the psychologist, have you failed to notice that?"

They both fell quiet a moment, unwilling to escalate this into something bigger than it needed to be.

"You don't have to prove anything to me, Scully," he finally said mildly. "Not then and not now."

She sighed. "I know, Mulder. On an intellectual level, I know that. But we've both faced times where something seems too much to ask of the other. You know there have been times when you haven't asked me for help, when something seemed too personal, or you thought I wouldn't understand, or maybe even you were trying to protect me. You know that even offering the choice brings a responsibility and a burden to the other."

She felt Mulder's chin rub against the top of her head as she lay against him. His chest rose and fell with a deep silent sigh and then she heard him give a rueful laugh at their mutual follies. "Our ability to wound each other is almost never ending, isn't it?" he said as he kissed her soft on her neck, then moved on to nibble on her ear.

"And it's so unnecessary because we're not as strong or as smart individually as we are together," she responded as she placed her hand over his where it lay on the edge of the tub. She played with his fingers a bit, and he responded, his fingers teasing back, lightening the mood. "But it would appear that we've made some progress," she added. "I mean, we are naked in a warm bath together." She heard Mulder laugh. "And you did just ask me to go with you to Area Fifty-One in Nevada."

"Yeah, that's true--and you went. Of course, you did sing for me in that forest in Florida. God knows, it was brave of you to trust me with that knowledge." The water sloshed as Scully reached back to elbow him slightly as she laughed too.

"Exactly." Then her voice turned serious again. "Mulder, all I can say about all that at this point is that I'm sorry. I went looking outside to solve my problems when I should have been looking within. And then when that all turned to shit, I came home to knowing that I'd hurt you. I felt somehow like I'd cheated on you--." She felt his hand lift from the water and smooth through her hair. His touch caressing, silently telling her not to worry about that.

"Scully, don't." Mulder interrupted her softly. "I do understand, it's not like I..." He fell silent and looked away a moment, wondering whether to continue this walk down memory lane. In all their time together, he'd never told her about what he went through during her abduction. Their focus had always been on what had happened to her during that time. He'd never really told her about what his feelings were and how he'd lived through his own kind of hell even as she went through hers.

But then she reached out and touched his arm where it lay along the edge of the tub, just stroking gently, urging him to talk. They'd wanted this intimacy, but if they wanted the rewards, they also had to take the difficulties of it. He turned back to her and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer back against him and the water splashed as she folded her arms over his. "What is it, Mulder?" she asked.

"Scully, when you were taken from me, I went so damn cold inside. I was so frustrated; I missed you by less than five minutes at Skyline Mountain. Five fucking minutes. You'd slipped out of my grasp and I felt like such a complete failure. And I was angry too, so goddamned angry with everyone and everything. I...I was even pissed at you for being gone, for leaving me alone. As the months dragged on, I knew that with each day's passing the chances of finding you faded. And yet somehow, I was expected to work, to carry on with my life, keep going on somehow, just box up my feelings, and move on. But I don't know how to box up my feelings, Scully. I never have. In some ways, I wish I could."

He stopped speaking a moment, remembering something else, and she waited. "I never told you this, but your mother asked me to help her pick out a headstone for you. I went with her because she asked me to, because she was your mother, because she had no one else to help her, your brothers and sister weren't there. But God, Scully, I'd never felt so disloyal, so faithless. Just being in that place felt like a betrayal. I couldn't even look at the thing, and for a moment, I hated her. I hated her for giving up on you and I hated her for making me look at the possibility you weren't coming back. I hated myself for even being there."

"And all that time you were gone, I had no one. No one I could talk to about what I was feeling. My entire support system of one was gone. I missed you so much, we'd been partners for only a little over a year, and yet I felt your loss as keenly as I had my sister's. It was that close to me. So for months, I just went back and forth between rage and despair and the feeling that I had failed you miserably."

Scully laid her hand over the back of his, meshing their fingers and holding on to him, her touch signaling her silent rejection his self-condemnation. She felt his cheek rest against the top of her head as he accepted her response. It was a long time before he spoke again, his voice low. "Scully, I was with someone during the time you were missing...when Skinner sent me out to California on a case." Mulder paused, waiting for her to say something, but her only response was to continue to stroke the back of his hand with her thumb. "It was one night and it wasn't important...she... wasn't important. But I was trying to feel something, anything, again. And somehow, she seemed to understand what your loss was doing to me. I don't know how she knew, but she knew. And I needed some connection to being human. But I failed in that too. The only thing I succeeded in was feeling even more alone... and you were even more firmly in my head than before. It was all a mistake, but it happened and I can't pretend that it didn't... But it's also why I understand more than you think about Philadelphia and Ed Jerse."

He fell silent, waiting for her reaction. She turned over slowly and then moved up to straddle his body as she settled back into his arms. He reached up to push her wet hair back off her face as she looked down at him. It was a moment or two before she spoke. "How about this, Mulder--we just leave both events in the past?" He nodded his agreement and she bent towards him to seal their bargain with a kiss.

God, he loved to kiss Scully. The emotion and the heat burned through him like a fireball. Her hands gripped the edge of the tub on either side of his head as he felt her begin to rock slowly and gently against him. She rubbed herself over his penis, feeling it take harder shape in response. His hands covered and stroked her breasts as she pressed against him. She kissed his face as she thrust slowly against him, sending little waves of water as his erection slid through her folds and over her clit. She began small friction rubs, the head of his cock just massaging against her clit. She felt Mulder's hands slide into her hair and pull her into him in a deep kiss, devouring and hot.

As the intense feeling built, her head fell back at the pleasure and her eyes closed at the sensation. She placed her hands on his chest for balance as she moved harder against him. After a moment, Mulder closed his eyes and laid his head back against the tub again for support as he scooted down to get leverage to move with her. He grasped on to her hips as she moved, kneading the skin, digging in with his fingers to pull her against him. Scully reached down through the water to take his cock in her hand, pressing his hard length against her as she moved, using him to pleasure herself and her movements giving him satisfaction in return. As she neared her climax, she thrust hard along his length, trying to push herself over the edge.

Unfortunately the tidal wave caused by her sudden movement and deep thrust rolled towards the back of the tub and into Mulder's face just he choose to take a deep breath at the rapturous sensation. The hot, soapy water shot both up his nose and down his throat and suddenly he was drowning, but just not with pleasure.

Choking and gasping for air, he instinctually tried to sit up, tumbling Scully backwards off his lap in the process which only sent another wave to make Mulder's struggle worse. He clutched the sides of the tub as he coughed desperately to clear his lungs of water. His eyes watered as he struggled to bring in air between the heaves.

Scully reached for him, "Are you all right?" But he warded her off, sounding like he was hocking up a fur ball. She sat huddled between his feet at the end of the tub watching him with dismayed eyes. After a few minutes, Mulder's struggle to get air finally eased and he lay back exhausted against the back of the tub with his hand covering his face as his coughing spasms became less labored.

"Mulder--" But he put his hand up indicating that he wasn't up to talking just yet and so she fell silent. After another minute of recovery, he finally drew his first non-rattling breath. After a moment more, she finally heard another sound. Mulder was laughing.

"Jesus Christ, Scully" he rasped, his voice rough from the coughing. "I think I liked it better when you were more inhibited." Still chucking, he finally opened his eyes and glanced towards her.

She stared back trying, without much success, to keep a contrite look on her face. "God, Mulder, I'm sorry."

"You don't look sorry," he retorted.

"How can I make it up to you?" Mulder raised his head and as he looked at her, he smiled slowly and she smiled back

He reached out his hand towards her and she moved back up his slick body into his arms, lying against the length of him. He kissed her hard, as his one hand reached down to cup the curve of her ass, pressing her hard against him, rebuilding the erection that had diminished under the duress of the previous moment. She rubbed over him, feeling his cock pressing into her lower belly, hard and ready. He cupped the back of her head and kissed her, plundering deeply with his tongue, his fingers grasping on to her hair as she responded to him. She applied her lips to his face, neck, and chest and then back again as she moved against his body, relentlessly and possessively as she drove him towards pleasure.

He drew away a moment to look at her flushed face, his own breathing hard, his body hard, the play suddenly turning serious and intense. "Fuck me, Scully," he asked, his voice still rough. Scully understood what he needed as she pulled his mouth back to hers, she needed it too. She rose to her feet, stepping out of the tub as he followed her, the water dripping off their bodies, glittering in the candlelight. He took her in his arms and then down to the floor on the soft carpet. As he moved over her body, she guided him inside, sheathing his cock within as he pushed inside her deeply. She began to move up against him, urging him on with her hands on his back and ass, pulling at him and he thrust hard and long. He dug his knees into the carpet for leverage as he raised back just slightly so they could both watch the movement of their intercourse, the frantic, hard penetration and acceptance, where their bodies met, separated briefly to meet again as he claimed her body for his own.

Scully loved the sight of their coupling and feeling of taking him within her body and she edged closer to the release of tension, longing for it. As their gratification built, he lowered his body against her, covering her, moving in hard, complete thrusts, driving towards a destination still just out of his reach. As his body consumed her, covered her, enveloped her, she crossed her legs over his back to hold him within, keep him as close as possible. His moist skin of his chest brushed over her nipples and breasts as his hands gripped her. He turned his face to hers and kissed her as she felt the final hardening of his cock filling her. She drew from his mouth as he looked at her; the desperate need for release so clear in his eyes. "Don't wait, Mulder, don't wait," she said, "I want to feel you."

Mulder closed his eyes and within moments drove his release over the edge, coming and shaking with the pleasure that ravished his body. He drew harsh breath as his body jerked with the gratification and he cried out with each pulse. Under her hands, she felt the muscles of his back go rigid and then relax back slowly. His long legs stretched out as he slipped his arms under her body to hold on to her. He didn't want to lose the feeling of her skin on his. He covered her body with his, supporting his weight as best he could with his now weakened arms. He held on to her and the white-hot rush of his blood began to course to other parts of his body, returning thought and strength. When Mulder was able to raise his head from the crook of her neck, he looked into her eyes and Scully smiled for him. He couldn't ever remember feeling quite this way. His body felt completely at peace, spent, and satisfied. But his mind felt both energized and clear, like he could do anything.

Scully felt him move back slowly, withdrawing from her body. It felt strange not to have him inside, a part of her. Her own body was still waiting for its release, teased now to the point of madness. But Mulder didn't go far. He held her close as he sat back and then rose to his feet, pulling her up with him, their bodies still dripping water. He grabbed the big towel off the rack and ran it quickly over his body, his hair popping up into quirky spikes as he passed it over his head. Then he set to work on her, running the towel quickly over hair and then roughly down her body, over her breasts, and between her legs. He moved it down over her thighs, teasing her skin even further as she moaned slightly and hung on to him. He threw the towel aside as he picked her up in his arms to take her the few steps over to the bed. Depositing her on the warm flannel sheets, he placed her back against the pillows. She watched him with confident expectation he settled himself between her legs. With no preliminaries, he lowered his head and began a voracious assault on her tiny clit with his mouth and tongue, tasting both of their flavors on her skin.

Scully's brain didn't even have time to form a thought before her senses took over completely and she just became a creature of all feelings. Intense and hot. Mulder stroked the very head of her clit, which by this time was way too hypersensitive to touch, and it caused her entire body to twitch and jerk in a sharp movement that was too much, too intense, almost painful. Too good if possible. Gasping, she reached down and gently nudged his head just slightly over and suddenly the pleasure flooded though her as he delved in with a hard tongue and a deep massage. His forearm braced her thigh wide; his fingers holding her open so his mouth could have full access to his target.

He removed his tongue just long enough to suck on her clit, hearing her involuntary cry at the sudden new sensation. Mulder returned to his tongue flicking as his hand rested on her lower belly, massaging smoothly. He felt Scully's hand move over his, taking his fingers and holding on with an iron grip. He increased the pressure, upping her level of feeling and intensity, when he felt her body go rigid as her orgasm gripped her. She gave another dark cry and her back arched as her orgasm unwound through her limbs until she lay back exhausted, her breath deep and uneven. Mulder gave her a few more licks and tweaks of his tongue, each one sending a quiver through her belly muscles, like a little jolt of electricity. Slowly he settled into soothing laving motion, back and forth, gentling her down off her high. Her death grip on his hand slowly relaxed and she now caressed his fingers. Licking his lips, he raised his head and looked up. Sated was the only word for the woman he saw sprawled before him in a decidedly unScully-like manner. He crawled back up the length of her body, bracing one arm on either side of her as she caressed his chest and they looked at each other.

"I'm glad you suggested a bath, Scully. Although, I think I threw my back out," he added.

"What are you complaining about, Mulder? I've been rode hard and put away wet--literally. I'm not going to be able to walk tomorrow either."

Mulder burst out laughing and Scully joined him. They enjoyed the moment together, each unable to stop the new roll of laughter each time they made eye contact. "So the doctor suggests plenty of bed rest?" he asked with a smile.

She touched his face. "There might be plenty of bed, but I don't think there's going to be much rest."

Scully's hair was drying and it curled in waves about her face. He reached to touch its silkiness, just running his fingers through it. Their passionate need satisfied, he now felt a different desire, a need to fulfill tactile sensations that weren't sexual, but were still as compelling in their own way. He leaned down, feeling her hands move up to hold his face as he sought her kiss. He reached under her to caress her small rounded bottom. He nudged her over on to her stomach as he leaned over her, his hands sliding down the length of her arms and intertwining their fingers briefly as he moved his hands back to her ass.

She felt his lips nuzzle and then his tongue slide over the line where her butt met her thigh. No one had ever done that before and she'd never realized what an erogenous zone that was. He held her hips firmly as his warm mouth and cool breath sent waves of sexual chills over her skin. His hand kneaded the fleshy rounded curve of her ass as he moved up over it to place his kiss in the center of her tattoo. He worked his way up her spine and over her shoulder blades, relaxing her. He used his fingertips to graze and tickle, feeling her squirm, and then laugh gently at the sensation. Indulging in the simple play she'd complained her first encounter lacked.

God, she loved this, she thought. She loved his hands on her body, touching her so freely, so openly. But mostly she loved the fact that it was giving pleasure to Mulder. She loved the idea that touching her body was something he needed to do. He covered her body with his, supporting his own weight and yet softly pressing the length of his lean body down on to her in what was basically a full body massage. It felt so completely right and her need for him and to experience his touch was so deep it almost invoked tears. She could hardly wait to touch him in a similar manner.

Scully felt his hands slide over her back as he kissed the round of her shoulder, nuzzling his cheek against the skin. Slowly he worked his way to her neck, pausing to lick the tiny hickey he'd applied before as Scully arched her neck to the side to give him full access. She made a low throaty laugh at the slight tickling sensation, the warm moist feel of his mouth and his hands smoothing her skin, making her feel so completely alive. She felt his fingers slide up into her hair to brush it aside so that he could continue his ministrations to the nape of her neck. The feel of his fingers brushing though her hair and the back of her head sent nice delicious feelings coursing in her veins. When he'd cleared a path, he bent to kiss the skin just behind her ear, then moving to gently suck and nip at her earlobe; his breath sending shivers as it reached her ears. He continued his soothing pampering indulgence working his way to the back of her neck, when she heard a quiet intake of breath and the withdrawal of his mouth from her skin.

She realized that in his travels Mulder had run across that tiny, hard, circular lump that now resided just under the skin, not as deeply implanted as it'd been before. That chip that did only God knows what for God knows how long. A hated intruder and yet one which she was also certain she could not live without. Mulder had brought her the chip, and trusting him, she'd allowed that thing to be replanted. He believed that it had saved her life, but she knew that it'd merely been the instrument. Mulder had saved her; He'd been the one who'd danced with the devil to buy her more time. But just how much time was a question they didn't ask.

And for someone who valued her control as much as she did, one of the hardest realities she'd ever faced was the fact that this thing controlled her. Completely.

She'd learned to live in peaceful co-existence with the chip because she had no other choice. And in truth, it was easy for her to forget for long periods of time that it was even there. There were days, even weeks that went by when she didn't think about it at all. She couldn't see it in the mirror unless she was specifically looking for it, which of course, she never did. When showering, soap and a thick body scrub puff made sure that she never actually touched it. The only time it ever really came to her attention was when she unconsciously rubbed her neck when she was tired. And then, even after all this time, it was always a surprise to find it there.

But right now, it had pushed its tiny, intrusive, unwelcome way between them, trespassing on their moment. She started to say something to him, to reassure him in some way, to divert him. But as she opened her mouth, she felt just the tips of his fingers graze the little bump, feeling its contour in a soothing circular motion. His fingers left and the warm brush of his breath followed his touch as he bent to tenderly kiss the tiny scar, bestowing his mark of acceptance of its constant presence, its necessity. And his arms tightened about her again.

"Scully, I love you," he whispered in her ear, his breath sending shivers through every nerve. "You know that, don't you? --that I love you." His voice sounded slightly concerned, as though he might think that she didn't know.

Scully felt tears well in her eyes though they didn't fall. She turned in his arms and took his face in her hands. She nodded slowly, looking up at his face that she loved so well too. She nuzzled her lips over his nose and cheekbone, his eyes closing as she touched her lips to them. She gently, gently kissed his mouth, just brushing feather light over his full lower lip, like it was the most delicious thing in the world. When she drew away, he followed her as though he didn't want to let her mouth wander too far from hers, returning the sweet, almost chaste touch. He finally opened his eyes and his smile was winsome, like a boy's, seemingly shy at having said the words. "Even though you tried to drown me a little while ago," he teased lightly as he sometimes did when covering a deeper emotion.

Scully gave a small laugh at his words. But as she looked up at his face, she could see that her tender touch had reached something in him that he responded to, that he had a longing and a hunger for. In his eyes, she saw a need to be held; to be made to feel secure and cherished. She wanted to do all those things, but first she started to tell him what she needed him to know too. "Mulder, I--"

But he stopped her with a brush of slow fingers over her lips, "Just kiss me, Scully," he requested softly. "For right now, just kiss me. Touch me."

How could she refuse a request like that?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Scully looked at the clock. It was very late afternoon. She and Mulder had woken up, made long slow love all morning, taken a shower together this time, made sandwiches and soup for lunch and then went back to bed, where they promptly satisfied other hungers and fell asleep again from exertion. It was becoming something of a pattern. She looked over at Mulder who slept soundly against her. She smiled with a bit of smug satisfaction because she knew she was responsible for his current state of languor. His eyes had quite literally rolled back in his head during the last blowjob she'd given him. She loved his body. And she loved exhausting his body, she thought with a certain amount of pride.

As she rolled over, she felt a little twinge and trembles in her leg muscles, especially her inner thighs. OK, maybe she shouldn't be so smug, she thought. She was definitely feeling a little weak herself. She'd used muscles she hadn't used in quite that way in a long, long time. Mulder had found ways to tense her up and relax her completely, usually within minutes of each other.

The truth was, they'd pretty much wore each other out over the last few days. They were like squirrels storing up nuts for the winter, so to speak. Not that they really needed to, they intended to continue their augmented relationship upon their return to the real world. But she also knew that it couldn't exist with the ease it did here. It would be a lot of stolen moments, and while that might sound as if it would lend a certain level of excitement, the reality was that it would just be a pain in the ass.

For the FBI, like all institutions, existed on two levels--the one in theory and the one in practice. In theory, there were no rules or regulations about agents consorting, dating, or otherwise generally carrying on. Certainly, for obvious reasons, nepotism was discouraged, married agents didn't work in the same unit, and affairs between superiors and subordinates were officially frowned upon in this world of sexual harassment lawsuits. But in essence, the Bureau pretty much followed the military creed of don't ask and don't tell. If the agents didn't make it a problem for the FBI, the FBI wouldn't make it a problem for them.

But in practice, Scully knew that she, Mulder, and the X-Files were scrutinized more closely than most. The fact that they were no longer assigned to the X-Files hadn't magically removed them from under the microscope because it was obvious that someone, somewhere, was telling AD Kersh their every move that wasn't associated with the background checks they were assigned to. And yet just as clearly someone, somewhere, wanted them on the X-Files; the simple fact that they, especially Mulder, hadn't just been offed years ago supported that.

So they walked that narrow line constantly. And any show of impropriety would throw their credibility as investigators, and as a team, into question. Whispers had a way of becoming fact in any office and the Bureau was no different. And she was certain that when they got the X-Files back, any proof that Special Agents Mulder and Scully were doin' it like weasels in their dark basement office would call all the rest of their work into question. There was nothing the world loved as much a good sexual scandal and she was reluctant to give anyone, especially their foes inside the bureau, any cause to compromise them. And in the end, and most importantly, what she and Mulder were to each other was just nobody's damn business. They had a responsibility to return to and an undertaking that could quite literally change the world. They had so much left to do.

But just not today.

Scully moved quietly off the bed so as not to wake him, though she couldn't resist reaching down stroking his soft hair, feeling it tickle under her palm as she looked at his face. Mulder in repose was a most seductive creature, that full lower lip of his downright enticing and dangerous.

Reaching down on the floor she bypassed her own clothes, picked up Mulder's T-shirt and pulled it on because it smelled like him and it felt like him. Mulder didn't know this, but she'd stolen one of his T-shirts once. She hadn't done it deliberately. Bleary-eyed with weariness from an assignment, he 'd accidentally left one of his overnight bags in her trunk after they'd gotten home from the airport. She'd discovered the bag the next day and had taken it inside, intending throw his clothes in the washer with hers.

But as she'd opened the bag, she came across the gray T-shirt. Her favorite, the one she loved to see him wear. She'd lifted it out of the bag, running her fingers over the well-worn texture, a lucky veteran of dozens and dozens of days in the close company of Mulder's skin. She'd taken the T-shirt, folded it softly, and placed it in a drawer in her bedroom. She'd washed the rest of his things and returned his bag to him. He never mentioned the missing shirt and she seriously doubted that Mulder kept track of something as mundane as his wardrobe.

But it was hers now. She never wore it and she never washed it. On occasion, when she was looking for something in one of her drawers, she would find it again. She'd run her hand gently over the softness and it would make her smile. The silly thing quite simply made her happy.

She left the bedroom, intending to head downstairs when something caught her attention. Down the hallway from Mulder's bedroom was a shut door that she hadn't paid much attention to, although she knew it had to be Samantha's old room. She stood in the hallway a moment, wondering what had become of the memory of Samantha. Grieving families sometimes either erased all traces of the missing person as though they had never existed, or they left everything completely undisturbed, as though the person was simply away for a bit and would be back in a day or two. She started to open the door, but suddenly wondered if she should do so. This wasn't her house; she hadn't been told she could go in that room. She should probably wait and ask Mulder to show it to her. It wasn't very respectful of his feelings to just barge in. But on the other hand, she didn't think that he'd mind. He wasn't like her; there was little that he didn't share.

She pushed open the door slowly and entered the room. The pale afternoon light revealed a simple room, much like Mulder's, except the walls were painted a soft faded pink. A child's twin bed with a canopy was by the window. Against the wall was a bookshelf and next to it, a small dressing table. A large trunk was at the foot of the bed, a toy chest perhaps. In the corner, under another window, sat a dollhouse, its contents gone. On the other wall was the closet, the doors were slid open but no clothes hung inside. Instead, it was filled with sealed cardboard boxes. It seemed that Mulder's mother had tried to strike a balance. Things were stored, but not disposed of. The clothes were gone; perhaps she'd thought that when Samantha came back, she'd be bigger and would need all new things.

Scully sat down on the little ottoman in front of the dresser and looked about the still room. She wondered if Mulder's mother had sat here too, waiting for her daughter to come home or if she knew from the beginning that she wasn't ever going to come back. 

Mulder's mother was a strange and complex woman; Scully didn't pretend to understand her or her motivations. But she and Teena Mulder shared a strange bond; They'd both lost daughters, and most likely to the same people. It was true that their losses weren't equal. Hers was a child she hadn't even known existed; a daughter she barely knew. But Teena Mulder had lost a child she'd carried within her, given birth to, cared for, and raised for eight years. She'd probably had all the hopes and dreams that a mother carried for her daughter.

But the thing that Scully didn't understand was that having suffered that loss, why didn't Mulder's mother cherish her son even more? Why didn't she help him where ever she could? Protect him. Samantha's loss had been the worst of living nightmares. But she had a son who needed both answers and his own kind of absolution. And he needed her help to find them. But it didn't appear that the woman had been able to rise above her devastation to see what was happening to her son.

Out of respect for Mulder, she treated Teena Mulder cordially on the few times they'd met or spoken, for it seemed important to him to hold on to this last familial relationship and she wasn't about to make it more difficult for him. But Scully knew that Mulder had rarely spoken to his mother since he'd gone to her to find the truth of her relationship with the cigarette smoking man. They'd had an angry exchange and her response had been the resounding slap across his face that Scully had heard clear out in the hallway. And to this day, they still didn't know the truth of what Mulder had been led to believe, it was like everything else in his life, well hidden in the shadows. But she knew that Mulder had been devastated at the thought his mother might have been involved with that bastard and confused by his mother's refusal to answer his questions. His need to discover the memories she could give him easily had almost cost him his life. But what secrets were so hard or so ugly that a mother was willing to torture her own child so? Or was it possible that his mother was protecting him? Scully had no clear answer.

With a sigh, Scully stood and walked to the window, looking out at the huge tree outside. As she did so, she remembered that Mulder told her they'd once had a tree swing in the back yard and that Samantha had broken her collarbone falling from it. She wondered if she'd been something of a tomboy like herself. She turned and walked over to the trunk at the foot of the bed, kneeling before it and lifting the lid.

Just as she thought, a toy box. Filled with the remnants of an eight-year-old girl's life. On top lay a dark-haired doll that caught her attention because she'd seen Samantha dragging it about in the home movies the other night. She lifted it gently and looked at it, smiling as she did so. She'd had this exact doll as a little girl too. It really wasn't surprising; she and Samantha had been born just a year apart; in a sense they were contemporaries. Only she'd had the chance to outgrow her dolls and to move on to the other things of adolescence. In a way, whatever had happened to her, Samantha would be forever young.

"What are you doing, Scully?"

Her reverie interrupted, she looked up to see Mulder standing in the doorway. He'd pulled on a pair of sweatpants and he looked rather disheveled, with his hair sticking out in several different directions. He rubbed his face as though trying to push wakefulness into his head as he yawned deeply and stretched his shoulders back. His unconscious gestures tugged at her heart. God, she loved him so well.

"I... I’m afraid you've caught me snooping," she answered. "I was just curious about Samantha. About what she was like. Is it OK?"

"Of course, it's OK." Mulder scrubbed his hands over his eyes again and when he dropped them, he really saw the faraway look on Scully's face for the first time as she gazed at that old doll of Samantha's. It was well-worn and battered having been drug every conceivable place an eight-year-old could have dragged it. "Are you OK?" he asked. She nodded as she looked up at him, and a brief smile flickered across her face. But he saw that it was a little sad somehow. 

"I was just reminiscing."

"About what?"

"I had a doll just like this when I was a little girl."

"You did?" he answered slowly, trying to figure out what was going on in her head, but also trusting now that she'd tell him. Eventually. "You played with dolls?"

She gave a rueful laugh at the slight incredulous tone in his voice. "Yeah, Mulder I played with dolls. I mean, I was pretty much a tomboy, Melissa was always the more 'domestic one,' as my mom called it. But I had one just like this and I loved her." Scully gently straightened the hair on the doll, pushing her dark curls back into place. "And I had a dollhouse too--a little different from that one though," she added, turning towards the one sitting in sitting in the corner. "I liked to rearrange the furniture over and over until it was perfect." She paused a moment as she gazed at Samantha's dollhouse and he heard a sad resignation come into her voice as she sighed a little. "I guess I was a control freak even then."

Mulder sat down on the floor facing her. He reached out and drew his finger along her forearm, gaining her attention as she looked back to him. "Not a control freak, Scully. Ordered. You like order."

Some of the light came back in her eyes, and she smiled genuinely, just a little. "Oh Mulder, you are such a good friend. You can even make my faults sound like virtues."

He grinned lightly in return. "Hey, I've had long personal experience at rationalizing faults."

That got a small laugh, but he was still concerned about her. She seemed on the edge about something and now she was just looking at him in that disconcerting way she had. Over their years together, there were times when Scully would just look at him for long periods of time as though looking at his face helped her think. Finally, she looked down again, back at the doll sitting in her lap. He waited.

"That vial is still there, isn't it Mulder?"

He didn't ask her what she was referring to. He knew that she was talking about that tiny vial filled with what had been taken from her during her abduction. The container itself was a marvel of construction; examination showed that it kept the contents in perfect frozen stasis. Waiting. And now, of all places, it resided inside a locked safe in the back of the Lone Gunmen's office. Oddly enough, it was the safest place for it.

"Of course it is, Scully," he responded gently.

She nodded and he watched as she gave a final straightening to the collar on the dress of the doll. She then turned and placed it carefully back in the trunk. "You know, I told my mother once that I didn't realize that I even wanted children until the possibility was taken from me. Until then, it was always this concept that was out there in the future somewhere." She looked back at him and shrugged slightly. "Something that maybe I wanted to do someday when the time was right. Kind of like a trip to Paris," she added with wistful laugh as she met his eyes briefly and he smiled. "But truthfully, I really wasn't thinking about it much at all in the present. And then when my oncologist told me that it wasn't going to happen, I accepted that it wasn't going to be my choice any longer." She closed the lid of the trunk. "Then when I found out that you'd found that vial, I was so angry--"

Mulder interrupted her. "I should have told you earlier, I intended to. I did."

She turned back to tell him that he'd misunderstood, but he went on before she could say anything.

"Scully, when I found the vial you were dying," his voice caught on the word. "Telling you would only serve to hurt you further. And then later, you'd just been released from a death sentence, and I thought you deserved a respite for a while. I thought we had time again."

She nodded in understanding, putting her hand out to him and he took it. "I know, Mulder. I was never angry with you; you mustn't think that. I understood why you didn't tell me. It's just that..." She trailed off and seemed frustrated, as though she was unsure of just how to say what she wanted to tell him.

He reached out and drew her close to him, enfolding her in his arms. Scully couldn't remember ever feeling so secure as he held her and nuzzled his face into her neck. Mulder's arms were strong about her; his breath was warm on skin and his voice affectionate as he talked to her. "What is it, baby? Tell me."

The rare and tender endearment made her feel more loved than at any moment before in her life, and she pressed her face against his chest as she held on to him. "Mulder, when I said I was angry, I meant that I was angry about having the possibility, the choice, put back in front of me. I can hold that vial in my hand and what is not yet--but could be--waits inside. If all things align the way they could, it should be possible to create a child from that ova with fertilization and in vitro." She shook her head slightly. "But what kind of child would it be? A boy or girl with your heart and my pragmatism, one who has my eyes and your nose? I'd give anything to..." her voice trailed off a moment and she cleared her throat.

"But what if it was like Emily--never really human and destined from birth to die young? We can't be certain if what you found was experimented upon or just stored. And even if we could be certain, we know what's coming and we haven't yet found a way to change that future. What if we fail? I couldn't bring a child into the world knowing what lies ahead, knowing he might be destined to be a slave." Angry tears filled her eyes as she shook her head. "I know too much. I know too goddamn much. I wish to God I didn't know." She looked up at him again, holding his gaze. "And I'm afraid, Mulder," she said, confessing the thing she hated to admit more than anything in the world. "I'm afraid."

He just nodded as he held her; his eyes communicating his understanding and compassion just as they always did. "I know," he said quietly as he held her, his hands smoothing along her back and cradling her head to his chest. "I know, Scully. There are times when I envy the blissfully ignorant too." 

Mulder rocked her as she pressed her cheek to the warm skin of his chest, feeling the texture of his body within her arms. He didn't say anything more, didn't offer her false hopes or platitudes and she was grateful for that. And as he looked at her, she thought there was no better thing in life than being held close in Mulder's arms where she could be weak for a moment and he never made her feel small about it. Where the ugly things in her life couldn't reach her. 

She closed her eyes, feeling his heart beat beneath her cheek and they sat together a long time. From the sanctuary of his arms, she finally asked him the question that she'd never had the courage to before. "Mulder, have you ever thought about who Emily's father was?" 

She felt him draw a deep breath and his hand came up to smooth her hair. He was silent a long time and when he finally spoke, his voice was so low that she barely heard him.

"Yeah, Scully, I've thought about it."

She drew back just slightly and raised her eyes to his face, so close to hers and he breathed softly through slightly parted lips as they looked at one another, each waiting for the other to give voice to their dark suspicion. That like Scully, but for a far briefer period of time, Mulder had also once ended up in the hands of the consortium. And that like Scully, he'd been returned with no memory what had occurred while held captive in the hands of bastards well-schooled in human experiment. He knew as well as she that they were capable of anything imaginable, and in fact, it would somehow appeal to their depraved sensibilities to visit that cruelty upon them.

Mulder closed his eyes and turned his head away slightly and as she looked at his downcast face, she saw that it was a concept too raw for him to give voice to; saying it aloud would give it unwanted credence. In her own mind, she believed those bastards had used him for their own purposes as surely as they'd used her. They'd hurt him just as they'd hurt her. 

But she also understood why the man who turned away from no hard question was turning away from this one. Even Mulder had his limits of how much truth he could take.

She'd had her moments of rage and grieving time for things taken. There was no such thing as closure, but there was acceptance, and she'd achieved that. But he'd had none of those things; most of his answers were still not found and if anything, the waters of deception were even muddier than before. And no one knew better than he did that there were some answers that were never to be found. She would hardly be the one to condemn him for his denial of this one answer. Perhaps it wasn't the soundest way to deal with it, but it was the most human. And Mulder was nothing if not the most complex of humans. It was why she cherished him.

She felt his hands upon her skin, covering, protecting, and she knew that of all the unreal things in her life, he was the most tangible proof she had of the extreme possibilities of human connection. They would never have many of the things that make up a normal life. But she did have this man who loved her, and he saved her from the terrible aloneness. That was more than most would have and she knew she was blessed. She reached for him again, pulling him back into her arms this time; maybe he would let her tell him now.

"Mulder, I love you so much." She felt him exhale a slow breath, a gentle sound, and his body pressed into hers. "I can hardly remember a time when I didn't. Honestly. I want you to know that."

"I believe you," he assured her, gentle humor returning in his voice. "I knew." He turned his head to look at her and saw the question in her eyes. "Scully, when you were in the hospital--when you were dying--you offered up to me the only things you had left in the world to give, your honor and your reputation; your most valued possessions.” His lips moved in just the slightest of smiles. “And I knew that you tried to give me these things because somewhere along the way on this journey together you fell in love with me."

She reached out and took his face in her hands. "Not somewhere. Always." Scully reached to kiss him and he seemed almost hesitant about accepting her kiss. "Always, Mulder," she promised again as she looked at him and after a moment, he nodded. She touched his face, coaxing his mouth back to hers and this time he responded deeply, with that starving man hunger for her that made her feel shaky inside. They rose to their feet and left Samantha's room, closing the door behind them. As he drew her into their room, his eyes swept over her body and he seemed to notice what she was wearing for the first time.

"Hey--is that my T-shirt?"

She nodded with a smile.

"Well, I want it back, Scully. You already stole one from me."

She thought that she should probably be embarrassed that he knew of her secret stash, but somehow she wasn't. Of course he knew, he'd just got through telling her how well he read her actions. Mulder knew her. "You want me to take it off now?" she asked, teasing him back.

"Yes. Right now."

"But it's cold!" she whined in mock-protest to frustrate his efforts to get her naked.

Mulder stepped very close to her as she looked up at him. She could feel the heat from his body and the heat from his expression as he looked into her eyes. "I'll keep you warm, Scully. Always. I promise."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few days later, Scully sat in the little breakfast nook in the kitchen, sipping coffee. As she looked about the little kitchen, she could almost see the morning activity of years past. A father reading the newspaper, a mother getting two kids ready for school. A bustle of activity not much different from her own home probably, at least for a while. But the mornings in the little house were serene and peaceful now. She looked out the window to the fields behind the house. It was beautiful here. Idyllic in the truest sense of the word.

And soon over. This was their last day here together. And what waited for them upon their return was just more dull, demeaning, demoralizing shit work. And it was hard not to feel depressed by the prospect of more of the same. But Scully resolutely shook off the feeling. They'd find a way back to what they were meant to do. They had to.

She deliberately turned her thoughts back to more pleasant things. She heard the water go on upstairs. Mulder was awake finally and taking a shower. The first one he'd taken alone in days, she thought with a smile as she munched on a banana nut muffin.

Just a short while later, Mulder padded into the kitchen wearing only a towel on his damp body. He smiled at her then wandered over the refrigerator and removed the carton of orange juice. He opened it, tilted his head back, and drank the last of juice. Scully's gaze traveled the length of his body from the fine arch of his throat as he swallowed, over his chest, down his belly, to his delectable inny navel, to the glory trail disappearing under the towel wrapped low about his hips.

How in God's name did he even manage to make drinking orange juice look sexy? She knew he wasn't trying, he was just being Mulder, and somehow that made all the more arousing. He lowered the carton and wiped his lower lip with his thumb, licking the last of the juice off it. It was only then that he noticed that Scully was staring at him open mouthed.

"What?" he asked.

"Jesus, Mulder, are you trying to kill me?"

"I wasn't going to put the carton back!"

She smiled slowly. "That's not what I meant."

Understanding her now, he sauntered over, bent down and kissed her. He tasted sweet and tangy. He sat down next to her on the seat of the breakfast nook as he bumped her shoulder playfully with his. "You kinda like me, don't you, Scully?"

She gave him an amused look. "Kinda. You're OK...for a boy, I guess."

"You know," he grinned at her salaciously as he tapped on the kitchen table. "I'm thinking that this may be the only horizontal surface in the house that we haven't done it on...Yet."

"The day is young, Mulder."

He laughed as he reached over, stole chunks of muffin off her plate and ate them. His expression turned thoughtful as he looked at her, aware this time together was all coming to a close. "So what do you want to do today, Scully?"

"I'd like to see a little of the island. What was your favorite place when you lived here?"

Mulder didn't even have to think. "The lighthouse out on Aguinnah point. The cliffs there are beautiful and the lighthouse is very old. That was probably my favorite place when I lived here. How about I show you around Vineyard Haven a bit; we can have lunch there. Then we can head back this way to the lighthouse, it's best closer to sunset anyhow."

"I'd like that."

"After that, maybe we can come back and break in the kitchen table?"

"I've got a better idea." Scully pushed her empty plate and coffee mug aside, then reached for him. "How about we break it in first?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that afternoon, they drove to Vineyard Haven. Mulder parked and they walked the streets of the town as he showed her waterfront and the shops. Apparently, not much had changed over the years; many of the places he'd been familiar with were still there. And Scully was charmed by the place.

It was much busier than Mulder's hometown of Chilmark with lots of locals out and about, taking advantage of the after-holiday sales and shopping. Mulder was looking down at Scully, laughing at something she'd said, otherwise, he might have seen and avoided the tall, gangly fourteen-year-old boy who came running full speed around the corner. But as it was, the young man in the baseball uniform smacked full into Mulder. Instinctively, they grabbed onto each other to keep from falling to the pavement as they struggled to regain their balance.

"Man, I'm sorry. I didn't see you," the dark-haired boy apologized.

Mulder straightened back up and looked at the kid, a sharp retort ready. But something in the boy's face caught his attention and he lost the words as he stared at him. 

Scully saw Mulder's brow knit together as he squinted slightly at the kid, confused recognition in his eyes. But then he shook his head slightly as he slowly loosened his death grip on the boy's shoulders.

"It's OK. I didn't see you either. Of course, you were moving at the speed of light."

The kid grinned. "I'm late for practice; my coach is waiting and he'll have my ass."

"Then you better get going."

The boy nodded, grabbed his mitt that he'd dropped and took off running without a backward glance. Mulder however, stood staring after his retreating figure as it disappeared down the busy street and over to the park where a group of kids waited for him.

Scully touched his arm. "Mulder what is it?"

"A flashback I guess," he answered, his eyes still on the boy. "That kid just reminded me...I used to play winter softball leagues too." He turned back to her, now smiling almost sheepishly. "For a second it was like I was back in high school, except without the polyester clothes and the bad haircut."

Scully smiled. "What I would give to have seen you in disco wear, Mulder."

"Trust me Scully, it was an ugly sight. Far more gruesome than anything you've ever seen in an autopsy."

She laughed and reached out for his hand, taking it in hers. He curled his fingers around hers and they began their walk again. Mulder was still getting used to touching Scully in public. Absurdly, a simple hand touch seemed bold and somehow daring. That seemed silly, of course, considering their intimacy of the last few days. But still, the feeling was there. He looked down at her profile as she looked over a book display in a window and another strong wave of desire for her flooded over him and he wished they were back home instead of out on a public street. Their brief encounter that morning on the kitchen table had been intense, even if they had giggled their way through most of it and had broken some dishes in the process. But it had been a mere taste and he was hungry again.

He tugged on her hand slightly and she looked up at him. Mulder pulled her into his arms and bent to kiss her, feeling just a second of surprise in her before she responded to his persistent mouth. When he finally released her, Scully lightly trailed her hand down his face, her breathing just slightly uneven. "What brought that on?"

Mulder ran his tongue over his lower lip, still tasting her. He leaned in close to her, and his voice had that tone that she loved. "I just realized it'd been a few hours since I'd made love to you. I needed something to tide me over," he told her honestly and she smiled in deep pleasure. He was happy to give her the power of knowing she was wanted. She'd certainly given it to him.

Scully reached up and brought his head back to hers and she kissed him like he was going off to battle. Her lips parted his and he felt her tongue caress into his mouth as she pressed her body along the length of his. God, this was exactly the way it was supposed to work, he thought.

And so Mulder stood there on a public street kissing his partner in front of God and everybody. The citizens of Vineyard Haven had to move around them to get down the sidewalk, giving the thirty-something couple who were acting like teenagers wide berth. He didn't notice the man and woman who passed them with an amused glance. Nor did he see the man suddenly turn back with a double take. But somewhere through the rising heat caused by the woman in his arms, Mulder heard a vaguely familiar voice.

"Fox?"

Mulder slowly lifted his mouth from Scully's and turned towards the sound. It took a second for him to direct his attention away from his desire for Scully, who'd stepped back from his arms, and over to the dark-haired man who was staring at him with an inquisitive tilt of his head. As he looked Mulder in the eyes, a shit-eating grin crossed the man's face.

At that moment, the face registered in Mulder's memory, and an equal smile crossed his face.

"Robert?" The man nodded. "Robert August. Holy shit, I can't believe it." Mulder extended his hand, but he was pulled into a bear hug instead. Scully and the pretty blond with the man exchanged glances and small smiles as they waited for their men to finish the male bonding ritual of slapping each other three times on the back.

Mulder stepped back looking at the other man a moment, shaking his head. "Jesus, I was just thinking of you. A kid just nearly knocked me down that I actually thought was you for a moment."

Robert laughed. "That would be Michael--he's all forward motion, I'm afraid. He was late for his warm-up so I told him to run ahead and we'd catch up after we had lunch."

Mulder looked momentarily confused. "Your son?" he asked finally.

"Yep." Robert drew the woman at his side into the circle of his arm. "And this is Melinda, my wife. Melinda, this is Fox Mulder, you've heard me talk about him."

Melinda extended her hand to Mulder who took it. "Ah, I've heard tell of you," she said with a smile. "I'm pleased to finally meet the real thing." She turned her eyes to Scully, extending her hand to her also. "Hello."

Mulder suddenly remembered his manners as he looked at Scully. "I'm sorry, this is..." but he stopped as habit almost caused him to introduce her as his partner, Special Agent Dana Scully.

But Scully rescued him as she took Melinda's hand and then Robert's. "Dana Scully. I'm pleased to meet you both." She looked up at this old friend of Mulder's. He was tall, taller than Mulder. Dark hair and eyes, handsome in a chiseled way. He had the complexion of someone who worked outdoors and suddenly she realized this man was the boy that Mulder had mentioned in his story the other night.

"Melinda and I were just going to have lunch, would you like to join us?"

Mulder looked at Scully a moment. God, a social decision as a couple. He didn't know what to do. "What do you think Scully, do we have time? I know you wanted to head out to the Aguinnah lighthouse," he asked giving her a white lie to fall onto if she wanted.

She shook her head. "The lighthouse will be there later, Mulder. I think there's some stories I need to hear."

They entered the small restaurant down the street. Over the menus, Mulder and Robert resumed an obviously very old argument over which burger was better. And during lunch, they talked about the various places in town that they'd wasted their youth in. Soon they moved on to what had happened to other people from their school. Who'd gotten fat, who'd lost all their hair, who was still here and who wasn't.

Scully sat back and enjoyed the easy banter that resumed between the old friends even after 20 years. It was fun to see Mulder through another person's eyes and hear stories about the boy and young man that he'd been. She asked Robert many questions and he was happy to tell tales about her partner. But Mulder retaliated with some stories that Melinda had apparently never heard about her husband.

Over a couple of beers another debate ensued over who'd been the better baseball player, and Robert begrudgingly admitted that Mulder's base hit record still stood although his own son had come close to breaking it last year. Scully looked over at Mulder, and although he was doing his best to keep a composed face, she knew him well enough to know he had more than enough regular guy in him to be deeply pleased at that news. In fact, it apparently pleased him so much that he magnanimously conceded that Robert had been the better basketball player.

As they rambled on, Melinda leaned over towards her. "It's a damn good thing there's no hoop nearby or we'd probably be forced to watch a demonstration of all this testosterone," she said with tolerant amusement and a roll of her eyes.

Scully laughed a little and nodded in agreement.

"So you're going out to Aguinnah this afternoon?" Melinda asked.

Scully nodded. "I asked Mulder to show me his favorite place on the island."

"It's beautiful," Melinda nodded towards her. "But you're gonna freeze in that. The winds up there on the bluffs are really cold."

Scully looked down at what she was wearing. Granted, her wardrobe selection that she'd brought with her had originally been for a Mexican cruise. But she'd layered up as best she could. Mulder had tried to give her some of his warmer clothing, but his sweaters and coats had hung so ludicrously big on her that she'd given them back to him. "That's what Mulder said, but I'll be OK, I think."

"There's a great little shop next door, let's run in and get you something. It'll only take a couple minutes and mostly it'll save us having to listen to yet another male-bonding story about which one of them saved the big game."

Scully couldn't help but laugh as she agreed. She and Melinda excused themselves and headed off to the bathroom first in deference to that strange ritual that demanded that women always travel in pairs to the bathroom. Men, of course, knew this was really so women could talk about them and compare notes. As Mulder watched her walk off with Melinda, he smiled a little at the normalcy of it all.

"Dana seems like a terrific woman."

Mulder turned back to his friend. He nodded as he took a drink of his beer.

"You two been dating long?"

"Dating..." Mulder repeated the word softly, as it felt foreign on his tongue. The word, of course, didn't fit what he and Scully were to each other. It wasn't even close, but of course, no other word worked either. "We've known each other for a long time, about six years," he finally answered truthfully.

"What does she do?"

"She's a doctor, a forensic specialist."

"Ah, brains to go with the looks, you always did like that. She work for the FBI too?"

Mulder looked at his old friend, habit making him judge how much to tell him, then he remembered--this was Robert. "She's my partner," he finally answered.

Robert gave him a slightly raised eyebrow that reminded him of Scully. "Does the FBI give you shit about that?"

Mulder gave a short laugh. "The FBI gives me shit about a multitude of things. They're pretty much on my ass about everything I do."

Robert grinned. "So what you're saying is that your relationship with authority figures hasn't changed since high school?"

"Not much. So how did you end up back here, Robert? You were practicing law in California last I heard. I remember that all you ever wanted was to get off this Island."

Robert nodded in agreement. "That was true. My life was just about everything I planned for in California. I had it all...And then it all turned to shit."

"What happened?"

"I was working seventy hours a week on high paying corporate cases I didn't give a damn about, but the prestige and money was good and I had a great rep. The one of my clients went down big time in an insider trading scheme involving millions of dollars. Scandal, jail time, fines, financial ruin--the works. I wasn't involved, but he was my client and so no one believed that I didn't know. It was guilt by association. No one wanted to be seen talking to me, let alone have me represent them. My clients left like rats on a sinking ship. My firm decided to clean house and booted my ass. All my so-called friends disappeared, and my wife left me for one of the partners in my firm who could continue to support her in the lifestyle she wanted. Mind you, this was after I found her with the fucking pool cleaning guy. It was all gone, everything I'd worked for. The job, the house, the car, my good name-- all gone. All I had left was Michael."

As Mulder listened to his friend's saga, he felt slightly ashamed. He knew too well the kind of ostracization that Robert described. He and Robert had grown up together and he'd been one of the few who'd remained his friend right after Samantha's disappearance. Most others had distanced themselves or their parents had distanced them. They listened to the gossip or simply parroted their parent's belief that there was no way that he didn't know what happened to his sister. But Robert had stood on his own, he'd never been a follower and he'd remained his friend. Later, Robert's association had been critical in the bizarre social structure that was high school. Robert had been a popular athlete, smart, and a natural leader. And since Robert thought Mulder was OK, the other kids slowly followed his lead. Although they'd never spoken about it, Mulder had always been keenly aware that Robert August's friendship had been one of the things that had helped to make his life bearable in the years first following Samantha's disappearance. And now he felt so bad that his friend had gone through his own trials alone. "Jesus, Robert. I didn't know about any of that. I'm sorry--"

But Robert shook his head, dismissing his self-reproach. "No. Things have a way of getting put in perspective with time, Mulder."

Mulder nodded. "How so?"

"Well, during all this, Dad had a heart attack and I came home to run his construction business while he recovered. I'd been thinking of trying to start over again in New York anyway, and I was only going to stay a month or so." But I found out I loved the work. It was hard, but it was pure. I was learning again; I was building something. Michael loved it here; he loved getting to know his grandfather. And then Melinda found me and for reasons I didn't understand at the time, she seemed to think I was worth something." Robert gave a rueful laugh. "That was eight years ago, so I guess the lesson to be learned, Mulder, was that you can indeed go home again."

Mulder laughed, pleased that his friend had found a new path. "Well, your Dad must be happy. I remember he used to talk about how he always wanted it to be 'August & Son'. Is he doing all right now?"

"He's not as strong as he was, but he's well, thank you. You know, he was talking about you just a few months ago. There'd been a small fire in town and he was telling Melinda and Michael all about how our house burned down years ago and he remembered how you came and helped us out." Robert gave a small laugh, "He said, 'that Bill Mulder's kid' was the only one of my friends worth a damn." Robert looked back at him and his eyes turned serious. He spoke quietly. "Mulder, I was sorry to hear about your father."

Mulder nodded his acceptance of his friend's condolences. "Thank you."

"Did...did they ever find the person responsible?" Robert's question was hesitant, clearly not sure if he was treading on painful grounds.

"Oh I know who did it. I just can't prove it."

Robert stared at him a moment, then shook his head. "Jesus, Mulder. I'm sorry. First Samantha and now this." His voice filled with real regret. "I can't imagine having to deal with something like that."

Mulder lifted his chin slightly. "It's not over yet."

Robert grinned slowly. "If I know you, Mulder, I'm sure it's not," he said as he took a drink of his beer. "You know, I didn't see much of your dad after I came back, but I'd run into him around town on occasion, at the store or something. But he always said hello and he always told me all about what you were doing when I asked about you."

Mulder gave a sarcastic laugh. "I'm not sure how the hell he'd know. You know what he became after Samantha. And the truth is that we'd barely spoken in the years before his death."

Robert shrugged a bit. "Well, maybe so, but he followed your career. He knew about every single one of your achievements and commendations. He said you'd been given your own investigative unit inside the FBI." Robert saw that his old friend was staring at him with some skepticism and he leaned forward a bit. "Mulder, he was proud of you. I saw it."

Mulder nodded slowly, not entirely convinced. He felt strangely emotional about the man he was no longer even sure was his father. But in the end, he knew that biology didn't matter--relationships mattered. And he preferred to remember the man who loved him well as a child. The father who'd told him stories, took him to Indian Guides and baseball games, who'd taught him how to ride a bike and throw a ball. He preferred to forget the bitter, cold, unhappy man who took his place in later years. Mulder was lifted from the slight melancholy by the sound of Robert's voice.

"Anyway, his death was a sad thing for me to hear about, he was always nice to me when we were kids." Suddenly Robert laughed a little. "Hey--do you remember the time my dad and your dad decided to take all us Indian Guides camping? Was that a disaster or what?"

Mulder started to laugh too as he remembered a time he hadn't thought of in over twenty-five years. It had been the summer of his 11th year and by fall, his family had fallen apart. But this was a good memory, it had been one of the best times in his life and one of the last with his father. He and Robert reminisced about lost tent stakes, burnt food, rain, wet matches, and lanterns with no fuel and Poison Ivy.

Next door, Scully was in the small clothing shop following Melinda around the racks of clothes and feeling out of place. Over the years, she'd lost touch with most all her female friends. She had her mom, and once in a rare while she would hear from her old friend Gayle. There were co-workers that she liked, and had idle conversation with. There was a single mother in her building who was friendly but who mostly always asked about that cute co-worker of hers. There were her sisters-in-law, both nice, sweet women who probably thought her to be more than a little odd. Scully knew that in their minds, she was well on her way towards becoming the proverbial Spinster Aunt. The odd little person invited to family holidays out of kindness and pity. But the truth was, she had little in common with her contemporaries and since the loss of her sister, she had no close female friends.

She'd watched Melinda and Robert closely at lunch. They seemed so comfortable together. They'd engaged in teasing banter, much like she and Mulder did, and they were clearly friends, much the way she and Mulder were. There wasn't much difference between them except they had the luxury of not having to wonder about how to stop a planned Armageddon.

"How long have you and Robert been married?" she asked Melinda as she sorted through the racks of clothes.

"We're coming up on seven years." Seeing the unspoken question in Scully's eyes, she supplied the answer. "Michael is Robert's son from his first marriage." She smiled a little, "But he's mine now too." She reached into her purse and yanked out her wallet. She flipped it open to show a picture of a cute little girl about five years old being proudly held by Michael. "This is our daughter, Hannah. She's with her Grandpa today."

Scully nodded appreciatively at the picture as she was expected to. "How did you two meet?" she asked.

"I'm a teacher and I'd picked up a job teaching summer school classes over here. Michael was in one of my classes. His life had been pretty disrupted and he needed a little extra help. So I scheduled a conference with his father." Melinda smiled at a memory. "I took one look at Robert and I was a goner. We kept meeting to discuss Michael's progress and as I got to know him, I knew he was everything I'd been waiting for."

"Sounds like you hit it lucky," Scully said.

Melinda gave a rueful chuckle as she looked over looked over a rack of sale sweaters, quickly working her way through with speed and efficiency, knowing exactly what she was looking for. "Well, actually, what I did was pick myself a huge challenge."

"How so?"

Melinda looked at her and Scully saw her make a quick mental judgment of how much to tell her before she continued. "Robert had been hurt very badly. His wife had abandoned him and Michael. When I met him, he wasn't at all sure which direction to take his life." Melinda smiled a little wistfully. "I knew he cared about me, but my problem was that my contract was up soon and I only had until the Fall to make him trust in his own instincts again. But I just knew he was the man I'd waited to marry, so it was worth it."

Scully was a little envious of her chutzpah and especially her confidence in her own feelings. "So how'd you do?" she asked.

Melinda grinned. "Bagged him by Labor Day."

Scully laughed aloud. She liked this woman; she could probably learn much from her if she had the time to know her better. At that moment, Melinda found and held up a thick sweater in periwinkle blue for her inspection.

"This is it. It's perfect for you. And even better, it's on sale."

And as Scully held it up to herself in the mirror, she had to admit Melinda was right. It wasn't a color she would have chosen. She was the queen of neutrals, nothing that drew attention to herself. But this was beautiful.

"Go try it on," Melinda urged.

Scully stepped into the dressing room and pulled the sweater on over her head. As she did, she heard Melinda's voice through the door.

"Dana, do you mind if I ask you a question? How come you and Fox call each other by your last names?"

Scully smiled a little at her reflection as she thought about the question. "At first it was professionalism. Then over time it just became...us. Besides, I like..." she paused, realizing she was about to say something pretty damn sappy.

"You like what?"

Ah, what the hell, she thought. She opened the door and looked at Melinda. "I like how Mulder's voice sounds when he calls me Scully. I love the sound of his voice, it's one of the first things that...that I fell in love with." There, it was silly, but she'd just admitted her affection for Mulder to another person. Scully almost felt proud of herself. Of course, absurd as it was, Melinda had no idea what a big step that was for her.

But Melinda just nodded her as though she understood completely. "I fell for Robert's hands. He has the most beautiful hands." The two women smiled at the shared confessions. "That looks great on you, Dana. You have to buy that sweater."

Scully glanced down at herself again then met Melinda's eyes. "Yeah, I do." she agreed with a small laugh.

"Well, the boys must surely have worked their way up to eleventh grade by now," Melinda said. "We should probably head back."

At the counter, Scully paid for the sweater, Melinda helped her cut the tags off, and they headed back next door. They reentered the little restaurant to find Mulder and Robert rolling with laughter over some high school incident. Scully was completely taken by the sound. Mulder had always had a good sense of humor, his barbs and double-entendres always crisp and biting, making her smile even when she didn't want to, often breaking the tension between them. His droll sense of the world and his deadpan take were his way of coping with the absurdities and horrors that confronted them. But he didn't often just laugh outright at something he found funny, something he enjoyed. It was only now she realized it was simply because she'd rarely seen him in a situation where it would happen. And she loved the sound. She glanced over at Melinda who smiled back at her enjoyment of the sound. As they approached the table, Robert looked over Mulder's shoulder and saw them coming. "There you are," he said to his wife. "I was beginning to think you were really dragging me over the coals in the bathroom."

Scully saw Mulder turn and look over his shoulder in their direction. His eyes flickered over her body appreciatively as he took in her purchase and he smiled slowly at her in a way that made her heart flutter as though she was fourteen years old. God, it was amazing how handsome he was as she looked at his angular face and hazel eyes. Sometimes just looking at him hurt. He drew back her chair so she could sit beside him.

"Actually, I was just telling her the story of how I made you fall in love with me," Melinda responded good-naturedly as she sat next her husband.

"Oh please, I chased you down," Robert retorted.

Melinda leaned over and kissed him lightly. "You just keep telling yourself that, Sweetie." They looked at each other and for a moment, they were the only two people in the room.

Mulder and Scully exchanged slightly awkward glances at the open display before them. But then she felt Mulder take her hand under the table and squeeze her fingers. She turned to him as he leaned towards her. "You look beautiful, Scully," he said whispered in that tone of voice that she'd just described to Melinda. God, would anyone notice if she crawled under the table right here?

Just then Michael August suddenly came bounding up to the table, his face flushed and happy, clearly the practice had gone well. "Hey Dad, can I--"

"Hold on. Michael, this is an old friend of mine, Fox Mulder and his friend, Dana Scully."

Mulder looked at the young man who so closely resembled his father and for a moment he was again struck by the odd feeling that a man his age could have a child this old…this real. So much of that normal life Scully talked about in the car while on the way to Nevada. He shook off the feeling and extended his hand to his friend’s son. "I think we already met on the street."

Michael rolled his eyes in embarrassment. He shook Mulder's hand and then Scully's before getting back to what was most important to a fourteen-year-old. "Mom, can I go with T.J. to get pizza?" 

Melinda nodded, told him to be home by six and two seconds later he was off and running full tilt around waiters and customers as Mulder watched him go. As he turned back, he saw that Scully too had his gaze. Their eyes met and they looked at each other openly, each feeling and understanding the other’s shared moment of regret for what might have been. He took her hand and Scully smiled as she nodded at him and he understood her silent gesture. Being so in sync with someone was wonderful, it made the bad bearable and the good perfect. They were actually pretty damn lucky.

He turned back to Robert, “A fourteen-year-old Hell on wheels,” Mulder joked lightly. 

Robert nodded, “I'm afraid he's at the age where he'd rather be dead than be seen in the company of his parents." He looked over at his wife. "At least Hannah still likes us." Melinda and Scully laughed.

"Hannah?" Mulder asked.

"Their daughter," Scully supplied and Mulder smiled that she'd already become familiar with this family.

The server brought their bill and it was time to go. They stood on the street a moment, saying their good-byes. Robert extended his hand to Mulder. "Don't let it be twenty years again, next time you two are on the island, call us."

Mulder shook his hand. "We will."

Scully and Mulder watched them move off down the street, disappearing around the corner. They glanced at each other, feeling sort of off-kilter. "You wanted to see the lighthouse," he said finally.

Scully nodded. "Let go."

They headed back across the island to Aguinnah and from there, the walk to the lighthouse was an easy one. Melinda was right, it was cold and it was windy. But it was invigorating, and from the point, they had a stunning view of the ocean beaches and cliffs.

Mulder sat down on the grass, leaned back against some rocks that sheltered him from the wind, and looked out over the sea. He felt the crisp air against his face and listened to the sound of the waves and the gulls. In this wild place, it was easy to feel as though they were the only two people in the world. He looked over Scully, who'd wandered a bit away and was now kneeling to look at some plant she'd found. He watched her examine the winter flowers closely and smiled at her familiar curiosity. The wind lifted her red hair in gentle flows about her face, the color even more vibrant looking because of the blue sweater. She should wear more real colors, he thought, she looked beautiful in them.

As he gazed at her, Scully seemed to feel his observation because she turned her head to meet his eyes. She was doing that thing where she just looked at him again. After a moment she rose to her feet and approached him. She reached out to run her fingers though his hair and then trailed them down the side of his face as she looked down at him. He thought she would lean down and kiss him and he was slightly disappointed when she turned away instead. He watched as she walked closer to the edge of the bluff to look over the ocean.

"It's so beautiful here," she said. "Once in a while I can forget there are places like this." She was still a moment and then turned back to him again, her eyes intense. "God, Mulder. What will we do if they come? If what the old British Gentlemen told you is planned comes to pass?"

He looked at her steadily. There was no real answer to her question; and he knew she didn't really mean it to be answered. She was simply voicing what was always in the back of their minds. "We'll just have find a way to stop it or survive it, Scully."

She nodded and after a moment she turned and walked slowly back to him. This time, she knelt down and he drew her into his arms. She laid her head against his shoulder as she stretched out next to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. He felt good in her arms; his body was warm against hers, solid, and real. He held her close a long time, his cheek resting against the top of her head. It was one of those moments that Scully wished would just last forever, even though she knew it couldn't. 

She looked up at his profile as he gazed over the ocean. She reached up to run her fingers through his wind ruffled hair, drawing his attention back to her. "I've decided I like this haircut."

He looked dubious. "I don't know if I buy that--I still remember the look on your face when I walked into the office."

"Well, I admit I was surprised at first. But I like it. You look very sexy, very handsome."

"Me?"

"Of course, you." To her surprise, Mulder looked a little embarrassed, as though he wasn't quite sure what to make of the compliment.

"And all this time I thought you loved me for my mind," he said finally.

"Mulder, you have a beautiful mind. It just happens to be housed in a beautiful face and body and I love them all." She reached up to kiss him, feeling him respond softly, letting her taste and explore. When she drew away, she remained within the circle of his arms as she laid her head against his shoulder. Sliding her hand under his jacket, she stroked his chest lightly. "It was nice to see an old friend, wasn't it Mulder?" she said.

"Yeah, it was," he nodded as his hand came up to caress the back of her head. "Robert went through some rough times, but he seems to have built a different life. One that he's happy with."

"They seemed like a nice family. It reminded me..." She trailed off.

"Reminded you of what?"

As he looked down at her, she smiled a little. "It reminded me why we do what we do. Why we need to keep doing it." They fell silent and watched the gulls fly over the water. After a moment, Scully gave a soft laugh.

"What?" he asked.

"I was just thinking about something Melinda said. She told me there was never a doubt in her mind that she would marry Robert. It was almost as if he wasn't going to have any choice in the matter. She'd set her heart on him."

He laughed a little too. "Well, I don't think he really put up much of a struggle, even the densest of men eventually figure out that it's best to let women decide these matters."

Scully smiled and as Mulder looked down at her, he could tell that she was in her wanting to say something, but not sure how to proceed mode. But he knew from experience he would simply have to give her the opportunity to talk to him and then wait for her to take it. With the talk of marriage, he had an inkling of what was on her mind, and the idea made him smile. 

But if she was going to go where he thought with this, he needed to tell her something first. He needed to be honest with her.

"Scully..." she looked up at him as he paused and then plowed ahead. "Scully, I was married once. A long time ago."

Scully held his gaze. She knew he'd been married; she'd found it out quite by accident several years ago. At the time, the thought that he'd been so tied to someone at one point in his life had made her feel strangely jealous, but that reaction had irritated her because she knew it was unreasonable. She'd never asked him about it as it was none of her business and she knew he'd tell her if he thought it was necessary. She waffled about confessing her previous knowledge, but as usual, Mulder read her clearly.

"You're not surprised, Scully. You knew didn't you?"

"Yeah, Mulder. I knew. I found it out when I was looking through some old files." She waited a moment, then asked the question that she'd wondered about recently. "Was it Diana Fowley?"

Mulder's eyebrows lifted slightly. "Diana?" A short bark of laughter escaped him.

"Why is that funny?

"I'm sorry, just the thought of being married to Diana is almost frightening, she's from the Phoebe Greene school of Man Eating." Mulder gave a slight shudder as Scully smiled. "No, I'd met Diana at Quantico; we went through the academy together. After that, she was assigned across the country and we went our separate ways, which was just as well because it was over between us. I didn't see her again for years, until after my marriage fell apart, when she came back to Washington briefly before moving on again. I fell back into something familiar only to remember very quickly why it didn't work the first time."

"But you still trust her."

"She's a good agent, the fact that we were lousy together doesn't negate that. But she's not a partner, she never was. She has no clue about what being a partner means. But maybe I didn't either until I met you," he added. "I told her once that you make me work for the answers. And as much as you and I have fought over that, and probably will continue to fight over that, I do appreciate the necessity of the battle." He gave a short laugh. "I probably even crave it in some respects--you're a worthy adversary, Scully."

She smiled at the compliment. "So are you, Mulder." She sat up from his arms and scooted over to sit next to him. She rested her arms on her bent knees and looked over at him. "So what was she like, your wife. How did you meet?" The word sounded so strange to say in conjunction with Mulder.

He also leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees clasping his hands together as he contemplated them a bit. "Her name was Lisa," he said finally. "I was still working for the Violent Crimes Unit when we met. She was a graphics designer for a small publishing house owned by her family. Someone had been sending hate mail and death threats to the publishing house. Then her sister was murdered and the threats indicated that Lisa was next. She was being stalked and terrorized. I spent a lot of time with her because I believed the murderer was someone who knew the family, had a grudge against them. She was smart and brave and I felt drawn to her. Protective, I guess. As it turns out, I was right, the guy committing the crimes was a failed writer who had it in his head that Lisa's father had ruined his life by turning down one this guy's manuscripts. So his way of getting even was to ruin his life by killing his children. In fact, he almost succeeded, but just before he could get to Lisa, we caught the guy. After the case was over, she called me and we started seeing each other. Two months later she asked me to marry her and so on a cold February day in 1989 we headed down to the courthouse and we got married." He looked off in the distance, as though concentrating, trying to conjure a face. "The truth is, I can hardly remember her now."

"But you loved her?"

He looked back over at her. "Yeah, Scully, I loved her."

Scully nodded. Strangely, it hurt a little to hear that. She knew the feeling wasn't reasonable, it certainly wasn't as though she'd come to Mulder with a virginal heart and body. But he'd given her the honest answer, the one she always got from him, the one she'd asked for. But his next words surprised her.

"But I guess I didn't love her enough."

"What do you mean?"

"My work with the VCU bothered her. She was jealous of the time and attention I needed to devote to the cases to solve them; I guess she thought hers had been an exception of some sort. I was gone a lot, and even when I was home, I was working on ugly, horrible crimes that I couldn't talk to her about because it disturbed her. Then, a few months after we married, I met the Lone Gunmen. Then just a little while after that, I found Dr. Werber and started to undergo a long series of deep hypnosis regression sessions...and I discovered my memories of what happened to Samantha." Mulder turned back to her, his voice low and somehow sad. "God, Scully--I finally had an answer to that little voice in my head that had whispered to me constantly for over fifteen years that something wasn't quite right with the world."

"I know, Mulder," she said gently.

He smiled a little. "But you see, from the beginning, you understood how much I needed that. Even if you didn't buy into it, you still understood just how much that answer meant to me." The smile faded as he shook his head. "But Lisa didn't. She didn't want to hear that answer, she didn't want me believing in that answer, and she sure as hell didn't want me pursuing that answer. She'd married an up-and-coming FBI agent with a strong career future. But I stopped being that guy and she didn't like the man she was married to now." 

He went silent a moment then continued as he looked off over the ocean again. "But I'm not blameless, I put my pursuit above her. I made her feel less important...and in truth...she was less important." He glanced back over at her briefly. "We pretty much started to live separate lives and finally in December of 1990, I came home early from an assignment and found her with another man. Some guy who didn't spend his time getting into the minds of sociopaths or who believed his sister had been abducted by aliens and the government was involved in the cover-up. She moved out to be with him, filed for a divorce and I haven't seen or heard from her since...The marriage became just another casualty of my beliefs."

"Mulder, you couldn't pretend that you didn't believe."

He nodded slowly at her words then looked back at her. "No Scully, I couldn't. The difference is that you know that--you accept that." He suddenly grinned that slightly boyish and endearing smile that never failed to make her go warm and liquid inside, and his humor returned. He leaned in and brushed his lips to her cheek, nuzzling back to her ear. "So a year later I was finally able to open the X-Files and a year after that, I got this unasked for and unwanted partner who crawled into my work and then my head and then my heart so completely that I fear I'll never get rid of her."

She grinned as she enjoyed his attentions. "Fat chance, Agent Mulder. I'm in for the duration."

"I know. Thank God." He laughed a little as kissed her, taking her mouth warmly with his. When he drew away his eyes were serious again. "Scully, you do know that you're not second, don't you?"

But instead of answering that question, she asked him one. "Do you remember that night on the bridge with the alien bounty hunter?" He nodded, his eyes questioning where she was going with this. "That night you traded the person you thought could be your sister for me. You'd looked for her for over twenty years, and yet you let her go...for me. So I know, Mulder. I do know. You've been forced to make hard choices, but don't ever think I don't see the cost of the choices." 

He smiled at that and leaned over to kiss her again. She drew away slowly after a moment and touched his face. "Mulder, will you marry me?"

He didn't seem at all surprised at the question. "Will I marry you, Scully," he asked quietly as he looked at her. "Or, would I marry you?"

She smiled slowly back at him, acknowledging that he was giving her the opportunity to make the question into a hypothetical one. The Bureau didn't really give a rat's ass if they were clandestine lovers as long as they were also discrete--many believed they'd been so long before this. But the beautiful, dark irony here was that if they were open and honest about what they were to each other, they'd be punished for it. And the work that had brought them together, that had both tested and transfixed their alliance--and even now in its absence continued to be the thing that bound them together--would be taken away from one of them. And since what they did was so deeply tied to what they were together, there was no longer any possibility of separating the two. So the question would have to remain hypothetical for now.

"Would you marry me, Mulder?"

He looked out over the vast ocean and she looked at his profile against the sky of steel gray as the wind tossed his hair about and she wondered what was going on in his mind. After a moment, he turned back to her.

"I'm already married to you, Scully," he replied softly. "I married you the night I sat by your bedside at that hospital waiting for you to come back to me. That night, I promised that if you would just wake up...if you would just look at me and say my name again..." He looked down a moment and then back at her. "I promised that I would love and honor you for the rest of my life and that I would watch over you and care for you for the rest of yours." His expression was full of tender emotion as he smiled gently. "I got what I asked for, so I guess you're stuck with me, Scully, for better or worse."

"For better or worse," she promised back, her eyes bright. She moved into his arms and Mulder kissed her again, long and slow, feeling her respond and it seemed a perfect moment. People don't often get perfect moments, he thought, and this was his. Finally. 

When he drew away, he touched his fingers over her face, brushing his lips to hers again briefly as she laid her head against his chest. "Of course, I didn't realize how often we'd test the limits of that 'til death do us part' thing," he said as he ran his fingers through her hair.

Scully smiled against his chest and looked up at him. "I think we've worked over the 'in sickness and in health' thing pretty good too." They laughed lightly together. "And it sure as hell took you long enough to consummate the marriage," she told him.

"Hey--I didn't want you to think I was easy."

"Never easy. But certainly worth the all the trouble." 

The wind kicked up and slowly, they rose to their feet. In the circle of his arms, Scully looked over the ocean, back to the mainland and their other life, unseen over the curve of the world. She drew a soft breath and looked up at him. "It's time for us to go home now, isn't it, Mulder?"

She felt his sigh as he nodded in agreement and he took her hand.

"It's time...Let's go home, Scully."

But as he started to walk, she held her place, stopping him, and he turned back to her. "But we'll come back?" she asked.

He smiled as he nodded, then drew her back within the circle of his arm as they headed down the pathway. "Yeah, Scully. Of course, we'll come back."

End


End file.
